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THE   LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 

Frederic  Bancroft 
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People's  Book  of  Biography; 


OR. 


SHORT    LIVES 

O  F 

THE   5I0ST   INTERESTING  PERSONS 

O  F 

ALL   AGES   AjN'D    COUjSTTEIES. 

CONTAINING 

MORE    THAN    EIGHTY   SKETCHES 

OF  THE    LIVES    AND  DEEDS  OF  EMINENT    PHILANTHROPISTS,  INVENTORS, 

AUTHORS,  POETS,  DISCOVERERS,  SOLDIERS,  ADVENTURERS, 

TRAVELERS,  POLITICIANS,  AND  RULERS,  W03IEN 

AS  WELL  AS  MEN. 


BY 

J^MES    P^RTO]Sr, 

A.UTHOR   OF    LIFK    OP    BENJAMIN     FRANKLIN,  LIFt    OF    ANDREW  JACKSON,  LIFE    AND 
TIMES  OF  AARON    BUr.R.FAMOU?   AM2PirAN3    OF    RECENT    TIMES,  GENERAL 

rUILilli  IN   NC'.V  ORx^EaNC,  LTC,  ETC. 


)      J    ) 


'       KICriLT   ILLUSTRATED 

WITH    TWELVE    STEEL     ENGRAVINGS. 


PUBLISHED    BY   SUBSCRIPTION    ONLY. 

VIRTUE  &  YORSTON,  12  DEY  ST.,  NEW  YORK. 

BlUGGS  &  PHELPS,  GALESBUEG,  ILL. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  tHS  year  1868,  br 

JAMES    PARTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District 

of  New  York. 


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CO 

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LIST   OF 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

3 

' 

PAGE. 

■      1. 

Shakspeare, 

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Frontispiece. 

• 

.      2. 

Washington, 

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•            • 

• 

9 

N       ^• 

Professor  Mitchell, 

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•           •           • 

79 

4. 

Benjamin  Franklin, 

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•           • 

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128 

5. 

Stephen  A.  Douglas, 

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•           •           • 

196 

6. 

Gen.  \V  infield  Scott, 

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238 

7. 

BilUON,      . 

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288 

8. 

Paul  Jones, 

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834 

9. 

Catherine  II.,     . 

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402 

10. 

Andrew  Jackson,     . 

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469 

11. 

Julius  Caesar,    . 

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639 

12. 

Joan  of  Arc, 

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687 

PREFACE. 


Biography,  which  is  the  most  ancient  kind  of  composition  with  which 
we  are  acquainted,  remains  to  this  day  the  most  interesting.  Fiction 
itself,  and  the  drama  not  less,  as  well  as  the  highest  forms  of  epic  poetry, 
derive  their  value  from  their  biographic  truth,  and  their  interest  from  the 
insatiable  desire  which  men  have  to  know  how  it  has  fared  with  their 
fellows. 

"Man  alone,"  says  a  great  poet,  *'is  interesting  to  man."  It  is  true, 
that  we  can  acquire  a  taste  for  branches  of  science  which  only  remotely 
affect  the  condition  of  our  species,  or  do  not  affect  it  at  all ;  but  this  is, 
in  a  certain  sense,  an  unnatural  taste,  —  something  acquired,  like  the 
preference  which  some  persons  have  for  repulsive  flavors  and  outlandish 
forms.  Speaking  of  the  natural  tastes  of  our  kind,  we  can  still  say  with 
Goethe,  *'Man  alone  is  interesting  to  man." 

Any  volume,  therefore,  in  which  lives  of  men  are  recorded  with  any 
degree  of  fulness  or  vivacity,  is  sure  to  meet  with  a  certain  welcome  from 
the  reading  public. 

In  the  work  now  presented,  the  reader  will  find  some  account,  more 
or  less  extensive,  of  a  considerable  number  of  the  most  remarkable  men 
and  women  who  have  ever  lived.  The  word  "interesting,"  as  applied 
in  the  title-page  to  the  persons  treated  in  this  work,  was  used  design- 
edly, and  gives  the  true  reason  why  these  persons  were  selected  in 
preference  to  others.  As  a  portion  of  these  sketches  were  written  for 
young  people,  it  was  obviously  necessary  for  me  to  confine  myself  to 
such  subjects  as  furnished  a  curious  and  interesting  .stoiy ;  and  the  same 
principle  guided  me  in  the  selection  of  the  other  subjects. 

I  think,  therefore,  tho.t  the  reader  will,  at  least,  find  this  an  interesting 

in 


IV  PHEFACE. 

volume,  and,  I  hope,  not  less  instructive  on  that  account.    Not  one  of  the 
lives  recorded  here  but  what  contains  matter  to  cheer,  or  warn,  or  en- 
lighten. 
Following  the  bent  of  my  own  taste,  I  have  dwelt  little  upon  the 

destroyers,  nor  have  often  chosen  even  the  armed  defenders  of  their  kind. 
I  have  preferred  to  relate  the  benignant  actions  of  philanthropists,  dis* 
coverers,  inventors,  and  philosophers,  to  whom  the  progress  of  man,  in 
every  age,  has  been  chiefly  due,  and  to  whom  the  homage  of  our  venera- 
tion and  gratitude  most  justly  belongs. 

Such  as  it  is,  I  respectfully  commend    he  volume  to  the  reader's  Irdul 
gence. 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


GENERAL   WASHINGTON   AT   HOME. 

PAGE 

The  General  favored  with  a  Curtain  Lecture  — Anecdote —  Ilis  great  "Wealth  —  Char- 
acter of  his  Mother  —  Extracts  from  his  Diary  —  Ills  daily  Life  —  ilis  llabits  0 

INAUGURATION  OF   GENERAL  WASHINGTON. 

Meeting?  of  the  First  Congress  —  Counting  the  Electoral  Votes  —  Unwillingness  ol 
the  General  to  leave  Home  —  His  triumphal  Progress  to  New  York  —  lie  takes 
the  Oath  —  The  Inaugural  Address  ...*.....  16 

OLD   DR.   NOTT. 

The  Life  of  a  New  England  Boy  —  Early  training  of  the  Nott  Brothers  —  The  Boy's 
Love  of  Knowledge  —  Interview  with  tlier  I'hysician  —  I'ursues  his  tjtudies 
while  teaching  School  —  Studies  for  the  Ministry  —  Marries  and  Migrates  — 
Settled  at  Albany  — 11  is  great  Sermon  against  Duelling — President  of  Union 
College  —  Makes  a  Fortune  by  his  Stoves  —  His  large  Gift  to  the  College     ,       .  23 

JOHN  HOWARD. 

The  great  Lisbon  Earthquake  —  Its  Effects  on  the  Mind  of  Howard  —  Business  and 
Wealth  of  his  Father  —  His  Apprenticeship  to  a  Grocer  —  Death  of  his  Father 

—  Inherits  a  large  Estate  —  JIakes  tlie  Tour  of  Europe  —  Keturns  to  England 

—  His  long  Illness  —  Marries  his  aged  Nurse  —  His  happy  Life  witii  Her  —  Her 
Death  —  Howard  sets  out  for  Portugal  —  A  Prisoner  of  War  —  His  Sufferings 
in  a  French  Dungeon  —  His  Release  and  Return  Home  —  Procures  the  Release 
of  many  of  liis  Companions  —  Slurries  again  —  Builds  Cottages  for  his  Tenants 

—  His  Benevolence  as  a  Landlord  —  His  religious  Opinions  —  Was  probably 
acquainted  with  Franklin  —  Birth  of  his  Son  —  Death  of  his  Wife  —  Appointed 
liigli  Sheritf — Personally  examines  the  Jail — Discovers  the  Horrors  prevail- 
ing in  English  Jails  —  Publishes  the  Results  of  his  Investigations  —  Receives 
the  Thanks  of  Parliament  —  Renews  his  Inquiries  —  A  Candidate  for  Parlia- 
ment—  His  Services  to  American  Prisoners  of  AVar  —  His  Travels  on  the  Conti- 
nent of  Europe  —  Extracts  from  his  Journal  —  His  Interview  with  the  Emperor 
of  Austria  —  The  Black  Assize  of  Oxford  —  His  Travels  in  Sweden  and  Russia 

—  The  Russian  Knout  —  Ruin  and  Death  of  his  Sou  —  His  last  Travels  —  His 
Death 30 

HOW  PROFESSOR  MITCHELL  BUILT  HIS  OBSERVATORY. 

The  Professor's'Birth  and  Education  —  Enters  West  Point  —  Settles  at  Cincinnati  — 

Builds  his  Observatory  there  —  Anecdotes  of  his  Operations  —  Death.       .       .  79 

DEACON  PARIS,    THE   FANATIC. 

His  Family  and  early  Life  —  Unhealthiness  of  his  Mind  —  Refuses  to  embrace  his 
Father's  Profession  —  Gives  away  his  Inheritance  —  Retires  from  the  World  — 
His  Self-torture  —  His  Miserable  Death  —  The  Miracles  said  to  have  been 
performed  at  his  Tomb  —  The  Convulsions  —  A  Woman  crucilied —  Anecdotes 

—  Eflect  of  these  Events  upon  Voltaire 85 

BLAISE   PASCAL. 

Invents  the  Omnibus  System  —  Superstition  in  France  then — The  Child  bewitched 

—  His  Talent  for  Mathematics  —  His  narrow  Escape  from  Destruction  — 
Frightened  into  excessive  Devotion  —  His  Life  of    Self-torture  —  Specimens 

of  his  "  Thoughts  » 9€ 

5 


VI  TABLE     OF     CONTENTS. 


FATHER    MATHEW. 

PAGl 

The  Annual  Ce.ebration  of  his  Birthday  in  New  York—  The  Usefulness  of  the  Father 
Mathew  Societies —  Origin  of  Fatlier  Matlicw's  Interest  in  Temperance- 
Beginning  of  his  Labors  —  His  wonderful  Success  in  Ireland  —  The  beneficial 
Eflects  of  his  Labors  —  Anecdotes  —  Extracts  from  one  of  his  Sermons  —  His 
last  Sickness  and  Death <        i..         109 

SCENE  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  AARON  BURR. 

Burr  severed  from  the  human  Race,  and  why  —  Interest  of  the  Ladies  in  his  Sorrows 
—  A  Clergyman  deputed  to  converse  with  Him  —  Dr.  Mathews  selected  — 
The  Interview  —  Burr's  subsequent  Career  as  a  Lawyer 115 

CHARLES  AVERY. 

His  splendid  Tomb  at  Pittsburg  —  His  early  Life  and  Education  —  Makes  his  For- 
tune at  Pittsburg  —  Operates  in  Copper  —  His  great  Benevolence  —  Founds 
a  Negro  College  —  Why  it  has  not  succeeded 122 

WAS  BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  MEAN? 

Eemark  of  Jefferson  Davis  —  His  Liberality  in  Childhood  —  As  a  Youth  —  As  a 
Husband  and  Master  —  As  a  public  Man  —  His  Generosity  to  his  poor  Friends 
and  lielations 128 

THE   BROTHERS    MONTGOLFIER. 

Character  and  Vocation  of  the  Brothers  —  Previous  Attempts  to  navigate  the  Air  — 
Tlie  Balloon  invented  —  First  Exhibition  —  The  First  Ascensions  from  Paris  — 
Dr.  Franklin  interested  —  Little  subsequent  Progress  of  the  Invention       .       .         134 

JAMES   WATT. 

Truth  stranger  than  Fiction  —  How  Watt  conceived  his  Idea  —  The  Ancestors  of 
Watt  —  His  great  Invention  —  His  long  Struggle  —  In  Partnership  with 
Boulton  —  Character  of  Boulton  —  Great  Success  of  the  Firm  —  Anecdote  of 
Boswell  —  Watt  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  —  Great  Importance  of  the  Invention       .         140 

POOR  JOHN  FITCH. 

The  First  Exhibition  of  the  Steamboat  at  Philadelphia  —  The  early  Misfortunes  ot 
the  Inventor  —  His  miserable  Marriage  —  Abandons  his  Wife  —  Serves  in  the 
Revolutionary  War  —  Conceives  the  Idea  of  a  Steamboat  —  Great  Progress  of 
the  Invention  —  Fails  from  want  of  Capital  —  The  Inventor  broken-hearted  — 
A  Suicide 146 

ROBERT  FULTON. 

Gets  Idea  of  the  Steamboat  from  poor  John  Fitch  —  Not  the  Inventor  —  Never 
claimed  to  be  —  Early  Life  —  Troublesome  Boy  at  School  —  Generosity  to  his 
Mother  —  Gives  her  a  Farm  —  A  Minature  Painter  in  Philadelphia — Goes  to 
Europe  —  Lives  with  Benjamin  West  —  Paints  a  Panorama  —  Experiments  on 
the  Steamboat  in  France  —  Partnership  with  Chancellor  Liviugston  —  First 
Steamboat  sinks  —  The  "Clermont"  on  the  Hudson  —  Brilliant  Triumph  — 
Sickness  and  Death 153 

ELI  WHITNEY. 

Inyents  the  Cotton  Gin  —  Anecdote  of  the  Suggestion  of  the  Idea  —  Early  Life  of 
WTiitney  —  Utility  of  his  Invention  —  Cheated  out  the  Benefit  of  it  —  Improves 
and  M  anufactures  Firearms  —  Marriage  —  The  future  Field  for  Improvers 
in  the  South  c       ......       •         159 

AUDUBON. 

Early  Life  —  His  Love  of  Birds  —  Pursues  his  Studies  in  France  —  His  Wanderings 
in  the  Western  Forests  —  Terrible  Loss  of  his  Specimens  by  Mice  —  Publishes 
his  Work  —  His  Person  described  —  Retires  to  the  Banks  of  the  Hudson  — 
Death        .       •       . ....        16} 


TABLE     OF     CONTENTS.  VH 


ZERAII   COLBURN. 

TAGB 

Aneccl)to  of  the  Discovery  of  liis  Talont.■^  —  Tlis  Fiiflicr  —  Instances  of  the  Boy'a 
wondorful  Towers  —  Anecdotes  ofliis  Qu'^'kness  —  Exhibited  as  a  .Show  in  the 
United  .States  —  Residence  in  Enj^'land  —  His  preat  Exploits  there  —  Goes  upon 
the  Stage —  Turns  Methodist  Treacher  —  Loses  liis  calculating  Tower        .        .         108 

JOHN  ADAMS. 

Antiquity  of  his  Familj  —  In  CoHcjre  —  "Why  a  Lawyer  —  Ilis  Success  at  the  Bar  — 

Member  of  Congress  —  After  the  llevolution — "jiis  Death,  and  Epitaph      .        .         173 

JOHN  ADAMS  AND   MRS.  ADAMS  AT  THE  COURT  OF  GEORGE  III. 

/ohn  Adams  presented  to  the  King — His  Speech  —  The  King's  Reply  —  The  Sub- 

seaueut  Conversation  —  Mrs.  Adams  and  the  Queen  —  Mrs.  Adams  at  Court      .         181 

INAUGURATION   OF  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Mrs.  Adams  upon  the  Election  of  her  Husband  —  General  Washington's  Joy  on 
retiring  from  Office  —  The  Inauguration  —  Mr.  Adams'  own  Account  of 
the  Scene 191 

STEPHEN  A.  DOUGLAS. 

His   Arrival    in  Dlinois  —  His  early   Life  —  A  successful   Politician  —  Member  of 

Congress  —  Scene  at  Chicago  —  Close  of  his  Life 196 

NICHOLAS   COPERNICUS. 

Great  Men  appear  in  Groups  —  Education  of  Copernicus  —  Ilis  arduous  Studies  — 
His  Discoveries  —  Danger  of  the  Inquisition  —  A  good  Churchman  —  His  Work 
published  —  His  House  still  preserved — His  Death 204 

CHAUNCEY  JEROME. 

Clocks  in  old  Times  —  Yankee  Clocks  now  —  Family  and  Training  of  Jerome  — 
Apprenticed  to  a  Carpenter  —  Kegins  Clockmaking  —  The  wooden  Clock  In- 
vented—  Rapid  Growth  of  the  Business  —  Jerome  sets  up  for  Himself — A 
magnificent  Order — Invents  the  cheap  Brass  Clock  —  His  great  Success  — 
His  Ruin  —  Finds  Work  in  Chicago 20f 

CHARLES   GOODYEAR. 

origin  of  his  Interest  in  India  Rubber  —  The  India  Rubber  Jlania  in  New  England  — 
Begins  his  Experiments  —  His  many  Failures  —  Ditiiculties  in  the  Way  — 
Partial  Successes  lure  him  on  —  Extreme  Poverty  —  Sullerings  of  his  Family  — 
His  Final  Triumph  —  Continues  to  Experiment  —  Dies  insolvent        .       .       .         215 

JOHN  A.   SUTTER. 

An  Officer  in  the  French  Army —  Emigrates  to  America  —  His  Misfortunes  and 
Wanderings  here  —  Settles  in  California  —  Extent  of  his  Possessions  —  Mar- 
shall joins  Him  —  Gold  di>covered  —  The  Secret  divulged  —  The  Rush  of  Gold 
Seekers  —  Sutter  and  Marshall  ruined  —  Marshall  now  a  Grape-grower     ,       .         221 

DR.   VALENTINE   MOTT. 

Receives  his  Death-Shock  by  hearing  of  President  Lincoln's  Assassination —  His 
earlv  Life  and  professional  Education  —  Studies  in  Europe  —  Anecdote  of  his 
procuring  Bodies  for  Dissection  —  His  Success  as  a  Surgeon  —  His  great 
Operations 227 

THEODORE   R.   TIMBY. 

rbe  thrilling  News  of  our  Deliverance  by  the  Monitor  —  Timby  the  true  Inventor  ol 
the  Revolving-Turret  —  His  early  Life —  Invents  tlie  Floating-Dock  —  Invents 
and  exhibits  tiie  Turret  —  Patents  it  in  184:]  —  In  1848  exliibits  it  to  Jeflersou 
Davis  —  The  Government  acknowledged  his  Cl.aim  and  paid  him  a  Royalty        ,         233 


Vm  TABLE     or    CONTENTS. 

KECOLLECTIONS   OF  WIXFIELD    SCOTT. 

PAGH 

Hia  Poverty — First  Sight  of  bim  —  Interviews  with  him  —  His   Recollections  of 

Aaron  Burr 238 

SIR  ISAAC   NEWTON. 

His  celebrated  Fight  at  School  —  Place  of  his  Birth  —  His  Education —  His  mechan- 
ical Talent  in  Childhood  —  ]S'ewton  at  Cambridge  —  His  arduous  Studies  — 
Makes  his  great  Discovery  of  the  Law  of  Gravitation  —  How  he  was  led  to  it  — 
Appointed  Master  of  the  Mint  —  Twice  in  love  —  Extracts  from  his  Diary  — 
Anecdotes  —  The  Inscription  on  his  Tomb 244 

GALILEO. 

Terrors  of  the  Inquisition  —  Poverty  of  his  Childhood  —  His  Love  of  Learning  — 
His  Discoveries  —  Arrested  by  the  Inquisition  —  Pronounced  guilty,  and 
obliged  to  recant  —  A  blind  old  Man  —  His  great  Knowledge    ....         261 

VASCO  DA  GAMA. 

His  Rank  as  a  Discoverer  —  Selected  to  command  the  Expedition  to  India  —  Sails 
for  that  Country  —  Events  on  the  Voyage  —  Quells  a  Mutiny  —  Reaches  India 
—  His  subsequent  Voyages  —  His  Person  and  Character 266 

DOCTOR  HAHNEJVIANN. 

His  Birth  and  Education  —  Practises  Medicine  —  Dissatisfied  with  the  Science  — 

Founds  Homoepathy  —  Persecuted  by  the  Apothecaries  —  His  great  Successes 

-  Removal  to  Paris 

ALFONSE  THE  FIRST  OF  PORTUGAL. 

Former  Greatness  of  Portugal  —  Indebtedness  of  the  Country  to  Alfonse  —  His  early 
Life  —  His  gigantic  btature  —  His  brilliant  Campaigns  —  Founds  the  Kingdom 
of  Portugal  —  Takes  Lisbon  —  His  Marriage  and  Family 277 

BARTHOLOMEW    DIAS. 

What  the  "World  owes  to  Portugal  —  The  Mariner's  Compass  introduced  —  The  first 
Discoveries  on  the  Coast  of  Africa  —  The  great  Voyage  of  Dias  —  He  discovers 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  —  His  Shipwreck  and  Death 283 

EARLY  LIFE   OF  LORD   BYRON. 

Efiect  of  his  Title  upon  his  Mind  —  Spoiled  by  his  Mother  —  Schoolboy  Anecdote  — 

At  College  —  His  early  Poetry  —  His  subsequent  Career 288 

FERNANDO   MAGALHAENS. 

Commonly  called  Magellan  —  Importance  of  Portugal  in  Navigation  —  He  enters  the 
I'ortuguese  Navy  —  Employed  by  Charles  V.  —  Discovers  Patagonia  —  Passes 
through  Magellan  Straits  —  Reaches  the  Ladrones  —  His  Death    ....         296 

SIR  HUMPHREY  DAVY. 

His  Appearance  as  a  Lecturer  in  London  —  Anecdote  —  His  Education  —  His  Inven- 
tions and  Discoveries  —  Marries  a  Fortune  —  Made  a  Baronet  —  His  Character         302 

SIR  MARTIN  FROBISHER. 

Character  of  the  Yorkshiremen  —  Frobisher  ambitious  of  making  Discoveries  — 
Finds  a  Patron  in  the  Earl  of  Warwick  —  His  Voyage  to  Labrador  —  Supposes 
he  has  discovered  Gold  —  Sails  under  Sir  FrancisDrake 306 

ALPHONSE   D'ALBUQUERQUE. 

Persecution  of  the  Heathen  in  former  Times  —  Fights  the  Moors  in  Africa  —  His 
Vo\  age  to  India  —  His  Conquests  in  that  Country  —  His  Booty  —  His  edifying 
Death 3H 


TABLE     OF     CONTENTS.  IX 


HERNANDO   CORTEZ. 

PAOK 

His  early  ^Ifo  —  A  Love  Adventure  —  Emlpratcs  to  tlie  West  Indies  —  A  Planter  — 

JSalU  /or  Mexico  —  His  Couqucsts  iu  Mexico  —  ilia  Scruples  of  Conscience  .        .         317 

FRANCISCO   PIZARRO. 

Begins  Life  a  S^vine-llerd  —  Enlists  in  the  Spanish  Army  —  Settles  at  Panama  — 

Sails  for  Peru  —  Conquers  the  Country  — His  tragical  Deatli  —  ills  Character  323 

SEBASTIAN   CABOT. 

The  Residence  of  John  Cabot  in  England  —  Sebastian  a  Map-maker  —  The  Voyage  of 
the  two  Cabots  —  Their  Discoveries  —  Sebastian's  other  Voyages  —  His  Object 
and  Character 329 

PAUL   JONES. 

Early  Life  —  .Toirvs  the  United  States  Navy — His  great  Success  —  Cruises  in  the 
Enj;lish  Waters  —  Attacks  Wliite  Haven  —  Restores  the  Earl  of  Selkirk's 
Plate  —  Captures  the  Drake  —  Takes  the  Serapis  —  His  last  Plan       .        .        .         334 

GUSTAVUS  III. 

Ascends  the  Throne  of  Sweden  —  Becomes  an  absolute  Monarch  —  His  Assassi- 
nation         3iO 

THOMAS   .JEFFERSON. 

His  early  Education  —  Studies  Law  —  Successful  at  the  Bar  —  A  Democrat  —  Tu 
Congress  —  Anecdotes  concerning  the  iJechiratiou  of  Independence  —  Governor 
of  Virginia  —  President  of  the  United  States 


SIR  FRANCIS  DRAKE. 


346 


His  Family  and  early  Life  —  Goes  to  Sea  as  a  Cabin-Boy  —  Commands  a  Ship  at 
Eighteen  —  Embarks  in  tiie  Slave  Trade— Attacked  by  a  Spanish  Fleet  — 
Ravages  the  Coasts  of  New  Granada  —  Sails  through  the  Straits  of  Magellan  — 
Second  in  command  agaiust  the  Spanish  Armada— Wliat  are  we  to  think 
of  Him  ? .        ,         357 

HENRY  HUDSON. 

He  was  not  a  Dutchman  —  His  first  Voyage  —  Sails  again  in  the  Service  of  Holland 

—  Discovers  tlie  Hudson  River  — His  last  Voyage  —  Discovers  Hudson's  Bay 

—  Mutiny  of  his  Crew  —  Murdered 362 

JACQUES   CARTIER. 

Why  the  St.  Lawrence  was  so  named  —  Early  Importance  of  the  Cod  Fishery  — 
Cartier's  first  Voyage  —  Enters  the  Mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence  —  His  second 
Voyage  — Discovers  and  Names  the  St.  Lawrence—  Lands  on  the  Island  of 
Montreal  —  SuHerings  of  the  Crew 368 

SAMUEL  DeCHAMPLAIN. 

His  Early  Life  and  Voyages  —  Sails  to  Canada  —  His  Second  Vovage  to  Canada  — 
Founds  the  City  of  Quebec  —  Discovers  Lake  Champlaia" — His  Death  at 
Quebec 374 

CAPTAIN   COOK. 

Born  in  Poverty  — Goes  to  Sea  in  a  Coal  Vessel —Becomes  an  Officer  in  the  Roval 
Navy  —  Serves  in  Canada  under  General  Wolf —  His  romantic  Marriage  —  His 
Voyages  in  the  Pacific  —  Killed  by  the  Savages 379 

ADMIRAL   SIR   WILLIAM  PARRY. 

Berves  in  the  War  of  1812  in  the  English  Navy  —  Sails  to  the  North  under  Captain 
Ross  —  Commands  an  Expedition  —  Ten' Months  in  the  Ice  —  Saves  liis  Men 
from  Scurvy  —  Endeavors  to  reach  tlie  North  Pole  —  Cause  of  his  Failure  — 
His  closing  Years 383 


X  TABLE     OF     CONTENTS. 


SIR  JOHN  ERANKLIN. 

The  Franklin  .'family  —  His  early  Fondness  for  the  Sea  —  Enters  the  Navy  —  Sers-es 
gallantly  under  Nelson  — iiis  Marriage  —  Governor  of  Van  Diemen's  Land  — 
His  last  and  fatal  i:xpedition  to  the  North  —  The  Efforts  made  to  rescue 
Him  —  Causes  of  their  Failure  —  Discovery  of  the  Kelics 390 

THE  GREAT  CATHERINE   OF  RUSSIA. 

Her  Origin  —  Marries  the  Crown  Prince  of  Eussia  —  Character  of  her  Husband  — 

Ascends  the  Throne  —  Her  Services  to  Russia  —  Her  Character    ....         402 

CONEUCIUS. 

His  early  Life— His  Marriage  and  first  Employments  —  His  Efforts  to  obtain 
■ftisdom  —  His  Death  —  His  AVorks  —  Outline  of  his  Teaching  —  Promulgates 
the  Golden  Kule 408 

THE  TWO   CATOS. 

Origin  of  the  Family  —  Cato  the  Censor  —  Affects  great  Austerity  —  His  Removal  to 
Rome  —  Accompanies  8cipio  to  Sicily  —  Specimens  of  his  Sayings  —  His  Person 

—  Cato  the  Philosopher  —  His  Suicide 419 

PETER  THE   GREAT. 

His  early  Life  —  His  Friendship  for  Francis  Lefort  —  His  Education  under  Lefort 

—  Seizes  the  supreme  Power  —  Travels  in  Quest  ofKnowledge  —  Reforms  his 
Country  —  His  Faults  and  Virtues 428 

CHARLES   THE  TWELETH. 

His  Education  —  His  Character  as  a  Youth  —  Ascends  the  Throne  —  His  Territories 
invaded  —  Defeats  his  Enemies  —  Wages  War  against  Poland  —  Overcome  by 
Peter  the  Great  —  His  Death 433 

MAZEPPA. 

The  Name  celebrated  by  Voltaire  and  Byron  —  The  true  Story  of  his  early  Life  — 
Why  he  was  an  Enemy  of  Peter  the  Great  —  Joins  Charles  the  Twelfth  — 
Shares  his  Fate 43S 

DEATH  OF  LOUIS  FOURTEENTH. 

Easier  to  die  well  than  to  live  well  —  The  King's  Declining  Health  —  Seized  with 
mortal  Sickness  —  His  Advice  to  his  Heir  —  His  Farewell  to  his  Court  —  His 
last  Words  —  His  Death 444 

JOHN  LAW. 

niv'  great  Celebrity  —  His  Family  and  Education  —  Wanders  over  Europe  —  Makes 
a  Fortune  by  Gambling  —  Settles  in  Paris  —  Disorder  in  the  Finances  —  His 
Schemes  to  restore  them  —  Appointed  Minister  of  Finance  —  Evils  of  an  in- 
flated Currency  —  The  Reaction  —  One  bundled  thousand  Persons  ruined  .       ,         450 

GENERAL  HENRY  KNOX. 

His  Early  Life  —  Joins  the  Army  —  His  Services  during  the  Revolution  —  Secre- 

tary  of  War 457 

ALEXANDER  HAINIILTON. 

Place  of  his  Birth  —  His  Education  —  His  first  Speech  —  Services  in  the  Revolution 

—  Secretary  of  the  Treasury 463 

THE  ATTEMPT   TO  ASSASSINATE  PRESIDENT  JACKSON. 

The  Funeral  of  a  :Member  of  Congress  —  Attended  by  the  President  —  Fired  at  by  a 

Madman  —  Examination  of  the  Prisoner  —  What  the  President  thought  of  it    .         409 


TABLE     OP     COXTENTS.  XI 


LA  FAYETTE. 


7  AUB 


A  Democratic  Ulnrquis  —  Antiquity  of  flie  Family  —  Offers  liis  Sorviccs  to  Silas 
Dl'UIic'  —  Sails  to  Anicriia — A  .Major-Cicucial  in  tlie  Aimricau  Army  —  lln- 
turn  to  France  —  His  subsequent  hcrvices  —  His  Course  iu  tiie  Frtucli  Kevolu- 
tiou  —  Anecdotes  —  Imprisoned  iu  Austria  —  Close  of  his  Life    ....         475 

BOLIVAR. 

Reasons  of  the  Backwardness  of  South  America  —  Henry  Clay's  Opinion  —  Early  Life 
of  Bolivar  —  His  Cainpaigng  —  Delivers  his  Country  —  His  last  I'lau  and 
Death , 486 

GARIBALDI. 

Not  a  bogus  Patriot  —  His  Famil^  and  early  Life  —  A  Cabin-Boy — A  Price  upon 

his  Head  —  Fourteen  Years  ipx  bouth  Ainerica  —  In  Italy  again  —  His  bpeech    .         492 

NAPOLEOX   II. 

His  Birth  —  Flight  of  his  IMother  from  Paris  -  Adopted  as  an  Austrian  Prince  — 
Kindly  treated  and  well  educated  —  Anecdotes  —  Enters  the  Austrian  Army  -  - 
Proud  of  his  Father  —  His  last  bickness  and  Death 499 

LOUIS   PHILIPPE   IN    THE  UNITED   STATES. 

Origin  of  his  Family  —  Execution  of  his  Father  —  Louis  Philippe  a  School-teacher 

—  Voyage  to  America  —  His  Travels  here  —  Anecdotes 508 

LORD  PALMERSTON. 

His  Diet  —  His  Habits  of  Exercise  —  The  House  of  Commons  —  His  Mode  of  Speak- 
ing —  Anecdote  —  Not  superstitious  —  His  Advice  to  the  Scotch  Clergymen       .         IM 

BENEDICT  ARNOLD— NEW  LIGHT. 

His  Character  as  a  Boy  —  A  business  Man —  Ravages  his  native  State  —  The  Wages 

of  his  Treason  —  His  Descendants 521 

CAPTAIN  JAMES  LAWRENCE. 

His  Tomb  in  New  York  —  His  Wife  —  His  early  Ljfe  —  His  Career  in  the  Navy  — 

The  Poet  Southey  in  the  American  Naval  Victories  in  1813 526 

DEATH   OF   COMMODORE  DECATUR. 

His  early  Life  —  In  the  War  with  Algiers —  In  the  War  of  1812  —  Hostile  Correspon- 
dence with  Barron —  The  Duel  —  Death  of  Decatur 532 

JULIUS   C^SAR. 

Compared  with  Napoleon  —  His  Eise  to  Power  —  Emperor — His  Assassination  — 

His  Chamber  —  His  Successor 639 

LEWIS   CASS. 

The  City  of  Detroit  —  Early  Life  of  Cass  —  Governor  of  Michigan— Secretary  of  War 

—  Minister  to  France 545 

SAMUEL  ADAMS. 

Why  less  known  than  John  —  His  early  Life  —  Unsuccessful  in  Business  —  Serves 
the  Public  —  Takes  the  Lead  against  the  King  —  Anecdotes  —  In  Congress  — 
Closing  Years 553 

WHAT  IS  KNOWN    OF    SHAKESPEARE. 

Spelling  of  his  Name  —  Pank  of  the  Family  —  Shakespeare's  Education  —  ^^larriage 

—  G6es  to  I  ondon  —  His  dramatic  Career  —  ILetires  to  Stratford  —  Death        .         559 


Xn  TABLE     OF     CONTENTS. 

THE  WIFE   OF  THOMAS  JEFFERSO^T. 

PAGE 

Her  Beauty  and  Accomplishments  —  Courted  by  Jefferson  —  Their  Wedding-Trip  — 

Toils  of  a  Planter's  Wife  —  Her  Trials  in  the  Revolution  —  Her  early  Death      ,         666 

THE  WIFE   OF  JAMES  MADISON. 

Her  Family  —  Left  a  Widow  —  Marries  Mr.  Madison  —  Their  Flight  from  Washing- 
ton —  Close  of  her  Life .         574 

THE  WIFE  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Clergymen  in  Xew  England  formerly  —  Early  Life  of  Mrs.  Webster  —  Her  first  Ac- 
quaintance with  her  Husband  —  Married  Life  —  Her  Death 580 

JEANNE  DARC. 

Her  real  Name  —  Her  Family  and  Education  —  Superstition  then  in  France  —  She 

goes  to  the  King  —  Her  Exploits  —  Her  Trial  and  Death       .       .       .       .       «         687 

THE  WIFE   OF  ANDREW  JACKSON. 

Her  Family  —  Her  early  Life  —  Death  of  her  Father  —  Married  and  Dirorced  — 

Marries  Jackson  —  Happiness  with  him  —  Her  Character  and  Death   .       .       .        593 

MRS.   SIGOURNEY. 

Her  cheerful  Disposition  —  Her  Parents  —  Early  Love  of  Reading  —  Teaches  School 

—  A  Poetess  —  Marriage  —  Close  of  her  Life 601 


*o^ 


THE  POET  VIRGIL. 

Present  Currency  of  his  Works  —  Traditions  respecting  his  Youth  —  Goes  to  Rome  — 

Specimens  of  his  Poetry  —  Death 607 

THE  POET  HORACE. 

His  Father  a  Slave  —  His  own  Account  of  his  Education  —  Serves  in  the  Army  -  • 
Earns  his  Living  by  Poetry  —  Patronized  and  enriched  by  the  Emperor 
Augustus 615 

THE  POET  MILTON. 

His  Father  —  Education  —  Travels  in  Italy  —  School-master  —  Serves  under  Crom- 
well —  Becomes  Blind  —  Paradise  Lost      ••        619 


.<■ 


PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 


•  ^  » 


GENERAL  WASHINGTON  AT  HOME. 


■^o*« 


General  Washington  stood  six  feet  three  in  his  slip- 
pers, and,  in  the  prime  of  his  life  was  rather  slender  than 
otherwise,  but  as  straight  as  an  arrow.  His  form  was  well-pro- 
portioned and  evenly  developed,  so  that  he  carried  his  tallness 
gracefulljs  and  looked  strikingly  well  on  horseback.  There  has 
never  been  a  more  active,  sinewy  figure  than  his  when  he  was  a 
young  man  ;  it  was  only  in  later  life  that  his  movements  became 
slow  and  dignified.  His  wife  was  a  plump,  pretty  little  woman, 
very  sprightly  and  gay  in  her  young  days,  and  quite  as  fond  of 
having  her  own  way  as  ladies  usually  are.  She  settled  down 
into  a  good,  plain,  domestic  wife,  who  looked  sharply  after  her 
servants,  and  was  seldom  seen  without  her  knitting-needles  in 
full  play.  She  was  far  from  being  what  we  should  now  call  an 
educated  woman.  Scarcely  any  of  the  ladies  of  that  day  knew 
much  more  than  to  read  their  prayer-book  and  almanacs,  and 
keep  simple  accounts.  Mrs.  Washington  probably  never  read 
a  book  through  in  her  life,  and  as  to  her  spelling,  —  the  less  said 
of  it  the  better. 

Washington  himself,  before  he  became  a  public  man,  was  a 
bad  speller.  People  were  not  so  particular  then  in  such  matters 
as  they  are  now ;  and  besides,  there  really  was  no  settled  sj^stem 
of  spelling  a  hundred  years  ago.  When  the  general  wrote  for 
a  "  rheara  of  paper,"  a  beaver  "hatt,"  a  suit  of  "  cloaths,"  and 
a  pair  of  "  Fattin"  shoesj  there  was  no  Webster  unabridged  to 


10  PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

keep  people's  spelling  within  bounds.  Nor  was  he  much  of  a 
reader  of  books.  lie  read  a  little  of  the  History  of  England 
now  and  then,  and  a  paper  from  the  Spectator  occasionally  on 
rain}^  days  ;  but  he  had  little  literary  taste.  He  was  essentially 
an  out-of-doors  man,  and  few  things  were  more  disagreeable  to 
him  than  confinement  at  the  desk.  There  was  nothing  in  his 
house  which  could  be  called  a  library ;  he  had  a  few  old-fash- 
ioned books,  which  he  seldom  disturbed  and  never  read  long  at 
a  time. 

The  general  and  his  wife  lived  happily  together,  but  it  is  evi- 
dent that,  like  most  heiresses,  she  was  a  little  exacting,  and  it 
is  highly  probable  that  the  great  "Washington  was  sometimes 
favored  with  a  curtain  lecture.  The  celebrated  authoress,  Miss 
Bremer,  is  our  authority  for  this  surmise.  She  relates  that  a 
gentleman  once  slept  at  Mount  Vernon  in  the  room  next  to  that 
occupied  by  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  mansion ;  and  when 
all  the  inmates  were  in  bed,  and  the  house  was  still,  he  over- 
heard, through  the  thin  partition,  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Washington. 
He  could  not  but  listen,  and  it  was  a  curtain-lecture  which  she 
was  giving  her  lord.  He  had  done  something  during  the  day 
which  she  thought  ought  to  have  been  done  differently,  and  she 
was  giving  him  her  opinion  in  somewhat  animated  and  quite 
decided  tones.  The  great  man  listened  in  silence  till  she  had 
done,  and  then,  without  a  remark  upon  the  subject  in  hand, 
said :  — 

"Now,  good  sleep  to  you,  my  dear." 

"What  an  example  to  husbands  ! 

When  Washington  was  appointed  to  command  the  revolu- 
tionary armies,  it  is  plain  from  his  letters  home  that  one  of  his 
greatest  objections  to  accepting  the  appointment  was,  the  "un- 
easiness," as  he  termed  it,  that  it  would  cause  his  wife  to  have 
him  absent  from  home. 

General  Washington  was  a  very  rich  man ;  his  wife  was  very 
rich,  and  her  three  children  were  heirs  to  great  wealth.  He  had 
a  little  principality  to  govern.  Besides  the  farms  about  his  own 
residence  on  the  Potomac,  with  seveml  hundred  slaves  upon 
them,  he  possessed  wild  lands  in  most  of  the  best  locations  then 
known,  as  well  as  shares  in  several  incorporated  companies.    He 


GENEHAL    WASHINGTON    AT    HOME.  H 

derived  an  important  part  of  liis  influence  from  tlic  greatness  of 
his  Avealth  and  the  antiquity  of  his  family,  —  things  which  were 
then  held  in  much  more  respect  than  they  arc  now.  Washino-- 
ton's  estate  was  not  worth  more  than  three-quarters  of  a  milHon 
dollars ;  but  it  gave  him  far  more  personal  consequence  in  the 
country  than  ten  times  such  a  fortune  could  at  present.  The 
rich  planter  of  that  day,  living  as  he  did  on  a  wide  domain  of 
his  own,  the  owner  of  those  who  served  him,  ridino:  about  in  his 
coach  and  six,  and  with  no  near  neighbors  to  restrain,  censure, 
or  outshine  him,  was  a  kind  of  fiirmer-prince. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Washington  that  he  came  to  this  wealth 
when  his  character  was  mature.  Being  a  younger  son,  he  had 
no  expectations  of  wealth  in  his  youth,  and  he  was  brought  up  in  a 
very  hardy,  sensible  manner,  on  an  enormous  farm,  not  a  fourth 
part  of  which  was  cultivated.  His  father  dying  when  he  was  eleven 
years  old,  he  came  directly  under  the  influence  of  his  mother, 
who  w^as  one  of  the  women  of  whom  people  say,  "  There  is  no 
nonsense  about  her."  She  was  a  plain,  illiterate,  energetic, 
strong-w^illed  lady,  perfectly  capable  of  conducting  the  afiliirs 
of  a  farm,  and  scorning  the  help  of  others.  When  she  was  ad- 
vanced in  years,  her  son-in-law  oflfered  to  manage  her  business 
for  her. 

"You  may  keep  the  accounts,  Fielding,"  was  her  reply,  ^'for 
your  ej^esight  is  better  than  mine ;  but  I  can  manage  my  aflfairs 
myself." 

On  another  occasion  General  Washington  asked  her  to  come 
and  live  with  him  at  Mount  Yernon. 

"I  thank  you,  George,"  said  she;  "but  I  prefer  being  inde- 
pendent." 

And  so  to  the  last  she  lived  in  her  own  plain  form-house,  and 
superintended  the  culture  of  her  own  acres,  not  disdaining  to 
labor  with  her  own  hands.  When  LaFayette  visited  her  he  found 
her  at  work  in  her  garden,  with  her  old  sun-bonnet  on,  and  she 
came  in  to  see  him,  saying  :  — 

"I  would  not  pay  you  so  poor  a  compliment,  marquis,  as  to 
stay  to  change  my  dress." 

I  have  often  thought  that  she  must  have  resembled  Betsey 
Trotwood,  as  drawn  by  Charles  Dickens  in  David  Copperficld, 


12  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

and  as  found  in  many  country  homes  both  in  Old  England  and 
in  New,  —  honest,  strict,  energetic  women,  a  little  rough  in  their 
manners,  but  capable  of  eminent  generosity  when  there  is  oc- 
casion for  it.  Being  the  son  of  such  a  woman,  and  trained  by 
her  in  a  simple,  rational  manner,  George  Washington  was  pre- 
pared to  enjoy  the  lot  that  fell  to  him,  without  being  spoiled  by 
it. 

With  all  his  wealth  he  was  not  exempt  from  labor.  Cultivat- 
ing a  large  tract  of  country,  he  spent  much  of  his  time  in  riding 
about  to  visit  the  different  farms,  to  consult  his  overseers  and 
iSuperintend  his  improvements.  It  is  computed  that  he  spent 
about  one-half  of  the  days  of  his  life  on  horseback.  Like  all 
out-of-door  men,  he  was  exceedingly  fond  of  a  good  horse,  —  a 
taste  which  he  had  in  common  w4th  his  mother,  who  w^as  said  to 
be  as  good  a  judge  of  horses  as  any  man  in  Virginia.  Nothing 
was  more  common  than  for  him  to  mount  his  horse  after  break- 
fast and  ride  all  day,  only  dismounting  for  a  few  minutes  at  a 
time. 

On  those  great  plantations  far  from  any  large  town,  and  worked 
by  negroes,  the  master  was  often  obliged  personally  to  superin- 
tend any  operation  which  was  out  of  the  ordinary  routine.  No 
doubt  when  General  Washington  entered  in  his  diary,  *^  Bottled 
thirty-five  dozen  of  cider,"  the  hand  with  which  he  wrote  the 
words  still  smelt  of  the  liquid.  We  find  in  his  diary  many  such 
entries  as  these  :  — 

"  Spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  making  a  new  plough 
of  my  own  invention." 

''  Peter  (my  smith)  and  I,  after  several  efforts  to  make  a  plough 
after  a  new  model,  partly  of  my  own  contriving,  were  fain  to 
give  it  over,  at  least  for  the  present." 

"Fitted  a  two-eyed  plough,  instead  of  a  duck-bill  plough, 
and  with  much  difficulty  made  my  chariot  wheel-horses  plough. 
Put  the  pole-end  horses  into  the  plough  in  the  morning,  and  put 
the  postilion  and  hind  horse  in  the  afternoon ;  but  the  ground 
being  well  swarded  over,  and  very  heavy  ploughing,  I  repented 
putting  them  in  at  all,  for  fear  it  should  give  them  a  habit  of 
stopping  in  the  chariot." 

"  Apprehending  the  herrings  were  come,  hauled  the  seine ;  but 


GENERAL    WASHINGTON    AT    HOME.  13 

caught  only  a  few  of  them,  though  a  good  many  of  other  sorts 
of  tish." 

"  Seven  o'clock,  a  messenger  camo  to  inform  me  that  my  mill 
was  in  great  danger  of  being  destroyed.  I  immediately  hurried 
off  all  hands,  with  shovels,  etc.,  to  its  assistance,  and  got  there 
myself  just  time  enough  to  give  it  a  reprieve  for  this  time,  by 
wheeling  gravel  into  the  place  which  the  water  had  washed. 
While  I  was  there  a  very  heavy  thunder  shower  came  on,  which 
lasted  upwards  of  an  hour.  I  tried  what  time  the  mill  required 
to  grind  a  bushel  of  corn,  and,  to  my  surprise,  found  it  was 
within  live  minutes  of  an  hour.  Old  Anthony  attributed  this  to 
the  low  head  of  water ;  but  whether  it  was  so  or  not  I  cannot 
say.  The  works  are  all  decayed  and  out  of  order,  which  I  rather 
take  to  be  the  cause." 

Such  a  mill  we  should  think  hardly  worth  saving.  Even  the 
vigorous  Washington  could  not  get  a  Virginia  plantation  into 
very  good  order.  We  read  elsewhere  in  his  diary  that  he  owned 
one  hundred  and  one  cows,  and  yet  had  to  buy  butter  sometimes 
for  the  use  of  his  family.  W^ould  the  reader  like  to  know  the 
reason?  General  Washington  himself  tells  us.  He  mentions 
in  his  diary  that  one  morning  in  February,  1760,  he  went  out 
to  where  "  my  carpenters ''  were  hewing,  —  the  said  carpenters 
being  black  slaves.  "I  found,"  he  wrote,  "that  four  of  them, 
namely,  George,  Tom,  Mike,  and  young  Billy,  had  only  hewed 
one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  since  yesterday  at  ten  o'clock." 
Surprised  at  this  meagre  result  of  a  day's  labor  of  four  men,  he 
sat  down  to  see  how  they  managed.  Under  the  spell  of  the 
master's  eye  they  worked  faster,  but  still  in  a  wonderfully  bung- 
ling and  dawdling  manner.  He  records  that,  after  they  had 
prepared  a  log  for  cutting  into  lengths,  "they  spent  twenty-five 
minutes  more  in  getting  the  cross-cut  saw,  standing  to  consider 
what  to  do,  sawing  the  stock  in  two  places,"  etc.  He  found  that 
the  four  men  had  done  exactly  one  man's  work  the  day  before, 
supposing  they  could  work  no  fister  than  they  had  done  while 
he  watched  them,  and  that  one  intelligent,  active  laborer  could 
do  about  as  much  hewing  in  two  days  as  they  would  in  a  week. 
Here  we  have  the  reason  why  a  man  possessing  one  hundred  and 
one  cows  had  to  buy  butter.     If  this  w^as  the  case  with  the  best 


14  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

farmer  in  Virginia,  and  one  of  the  ricliest,  wliat  must  have  been 
the  condition  of  the  ordinary  plantations  ? 

Much  of  his  time,  however,  was  spent  in  taking  care  of  these 
dilatory  and  uncalculating  laborers.  If  a  malignant  disease 
broke  out  among  them,  it  was  the  master  who  alone  had  the 
nerve  and  energy  to  make  the  requisite  arrangements.  The 
sm-all-pox  once  ravaged  his  negi'o  quarters.  He  entei's  in  his 
diar}^ :  — 

"  After  taldng  the  doctor's  directions  in  regard  to  my  people, 
I  set  out  for  my  quarters,  and  got  there  about  twelve  o'clock, 
time  enough  to  find  everything  in  the  utmost  confusion,  disorder 
and  backwardness,  my  overseer  on  his  back  with  a  broken  leg, 
an.d  not  half  a  crop,  especially  of  corn  ground,  prepared." 

In  these  desperate  circumstances,  wdth  the  dead  to  be  buried, 
the  dying  to  be  comforted,  the  sick  to  be  ministered  to,  and  the 
well  to  be  tranquillized,  the  master  proceeded  to  arrange  hospit- 
als, separate  the  sick  from  the  well,  provide  nm-ses,  and  give 
Instruction  as  to  the  treatment  of  the  disease. 

Such  were  some  of  the  employments  of  Washington  when  he 
was  a  Virginia  planter.  His  pleasures  were  few,  but  they  were 
such  as  he  keenly  enjoyed.  We  learn  from  his  diary  that  he 
hunted,  during  the  season,  about  twice  a  week,  and  it  is  plain 
that  these  were  his  happy  days.  There  are  scores  of  entries 
like  the  following  :  — 

"  Went  hunting  after  breakfast,  and  found  a  fox  at  Muddy 
Hole,  and  killed  her  after  a  chase  of  better  than  two  hours,  and 
after  treeing  her  twice,  the  last  of  which  times  she  fell  dead  out 
of  the  tree,  after  being  there  several  minutes  apparently  well." 

There  were  balls  occasionally  at  Alexandria,  and  we  find 
Washington  attending  them,  and  entering  into  the  humors  and 
gayeties  of  the  entertainment  with  much  spirit. 

The  usual  course  of  a  day  at  IMount  Vernon  was  something 
like  this  :  The  master  rose  early,  shaved  and  dressed  himself, 
except  that  his  queue  was  arranged  by  a  servant.  His  first  visit 
was  to  the  stable.  It  is  recorded  of  him  that  he  once  applied, 
with  his  own  strong  right  arm,  a  stirrup  strap  to  the  shoulders 
of  a  groom  who  had  allowed  a  favorite  horse  to  stand  all  night  in 
the  sweat  and   dust  of  a  day's   hmit.     I  think  I  know  some 


GENERAL    WASHINGTON    AT    HOME.  15 

lovers  of  the  horse  who  will  bo  able  to  forgive  this  action 
without  the  least  difficulty.  After  a  light  breakfast  of  corn  cake> 
honey,  and  tea,  the  general  would  tell  his  guests,  if  he  had  any, 
and  he  usually  had,  to  amuse  themselves  in  their  own  Avay  till 
dinner  time,  offering  them  his  stables,  his  hunting  and  fishin<^' 
apparatus,  his  boats  and  his  books  to  their  choice.  Then  ho 
would  mount  his  horse  and  ride  about  his  farms,  returning  at  half- 
past  two,  in  time  to  dress  for  dinner  at  three.  Pie  was  always 
dressed  with  care  for  this  meal,  as  on  all  other  occasions  of  cer- 
emony, lie  liked  plain  dishes,  drank  home-brewed  ale,  and  was 
particularl}^  fond  of  baked  apples,  hickory  nuts,  and  other  sim- 
ple products  of  the  country.  It  was  his  custom  to  sit  a  good 
while  at  the  table  after  dinner,  eating  nuts,  sipping  wine,  and 
talldn2:  over  his  hunts  and  his  adventm'cs  while  in  service  durinsr 
the  French  war.  His  usual  toast  was,  "  All  our  friends."  The 
evening  was  spent  in  the  family  circle  around  the  blazing  wood 
fire,  and  by  ten  o'clock  he  was  usually  asleep.  Such  was  the 
ordinary  life  of  this  illustrious  farmer  at  home,  before  his  coun- 
try called  him  to  the  field  to  defend  her  liberties ;  h.nd  it  was 
just  the  Idnd  of  life  that  was  best  fitted  to  prepare  hi^  for  the 
command  of  an  army  of  American  farmers. 


16  PEOPLE'S    BOOK     OF     BIOGEAPHT. 


INAUGURATION   OF   WASHINGTON. 


The  first  Congress,  under  the  present  Constitution,  met  in 
the  city  of  NewVork,  on  the  4th  of  March,  1789.  That,  at 
least,  was  the  day  appointed  for  its  meeting ;  but  when  the  hour 
had  arrived,  it  was  found  that,  out  of  twenty-six  senators,  only 
eight  were  present,  and  of  a  numerous  House  of  Representa- 
tives but  fourteen  members  were  in  their  seats.  Both  houses 
adjourned  from  day  to  day,  and  it  was  not  until  the  6th  of 
April  that  a  quorum  of  both  houses  was  present. 

The  first  business  in  order,  after  the  organization,  was  the 
counting  of  the  votes  for  president  and  vice-president,  and  thus 
to  ascertain  who  it  was  whom  the  people  had  elected  to  set  the 
new  government  in  motion.  The  constitution  then  required 
that  the  person  who  had  received  the  highest  number  of  electo- 
ral votes  should  be  the  president,  and  the  person  who  received 
the  next  highest  number  should  be  the  vice-president.  For 
the  first  ofiice  there  was  nothing  that  resembled  competition. 
Not  only  was  every  electoral  vote  cast  for  General  Washington, 
but,  so  far  as  is  known,  he  was  the  choice  of  every  individual 
voter  in  every  State  of  the  Union. 

When  w^e  look  over  the  list  of  those  who  received  votes  for 
the  vice-presidency,  we  cannot  but  be  struck  with  the  transi- 
tory nature  of  political  fame.  Who  has  ever  heard  of  an 
American  politician  by  the  name  of  John  Milton  ?  Yet  John 
Milton  was  a  man  of  sufficient  prominence  in  the  United  States, 
in  1781),  to  receive  two  electoral  votes  for  the  presidency.  One 
Edward  Telfair  received  a  vote.  Who  was  Telfair?  These  two 
persons  are  so  completely  forgotten  that  their  names  are  not 
even  mentioned  in  the  biographical  dictionaries.  Among  the 
other   persons,  nearly  forgotten,  who   received  votes   for  this 


inauguhation   of   Washington.  17 

offico,  ^\G  find  Benjamin  Lincoln,  James  Armstrong,  IJijljert  II. 
Harrison,  Samnel  Ilnntingdon,  and  John  liutledge.  The  can- 
didate elected  was  John  Adams,  who  received  thirty-fonr  votes. 
John  Jay  received  nine  votes,  and  John  Hancock  four  votes,  and 
the  rest  Avere  scattered  among  the  unknown  names  just  mentioned. 

When  the  result  of  the  election  was  proclaimed,  a  member 
of  the  Senate  was  appointed  to  go  to  ]\Iount  Yernon  and  notify 
General  Washington  of  his  election.  The  long  delay  which  had 
occurred  while  a  quorum  of  Congress  was  assem])Iing  was  re- 
garded by  the  general,  as  he  himself  remarked,  in  the  light  of 
a  ^^  reprieve. '"  He  wrote  to  his  old  companion  in  arms,  General 
Knox  :  — 

"  My  movements  to  the  chair  of  government  will  be  accom- 
panied by  feelings  not  unlike  those  of  a  culprit  who  is  going  to 
the  place  of  his  execution ;  so  unwilling  am  I,  in  the  evening  of 
a  life  nearly  consumed  in  public  cares,  to  quit  a  peaceful  abode 
for  an  ocean  of  difficulties,  without  that  competency  of  political 
skill,  abilities,  and  inclination,  w^hich  are  necessary  to  manage 
the  helm.  I  am  sensible  that  I  am  embarkins:  the  voice  of  the 
people  and  a  good  name  of  my  own  on  this  voyage ;  but  what 
returns  will  be  made  for  them,  Heaven  alone  can  foretell.  In- 
tegrity and  firmness  are  all  I  can  promise.  These,  be  the 
voyage  long  or  short,  shall  never  forsake  me,  although  I  may 
be  deserted  by  all  men ;  for,  of  the  consolations  which  are  to 
be  derived  from  these,  under  any  circumstances,  the  world 
cannot  deprive  me." 

All  the  letters  of  Washington  written  at  this  period  show  the 
unwillinirness  with  which  he  left  his  beloved  retirement  to 
resume  the  control  of  public  affairs.  It  was  more  than  unwil- 
lingness,—  it  was  aversion  and  dread.  He  distrusted  his  own 
abilities,  nor  was  he  satisfied  w^ith  every  part  of  the  new  Con- 
stitution. Two  days,  however,  after  the  messenger  reached 
him  with  the  official  news  of  his  election,  he  began  his  journey 
to  the  seat  of  government. 

That  journey  was  a  triumphal  progress.  He  had  scarcely 
gone  beyond  the  boundaries  of  his  own  estate,  when  he  was 
met  by  a  company  of  horsemen  from  Alexandria,  who  escorted 
him  to  that  ancient  town,  where  a  public  banquet  had  been  pro- 

2 


IS         PEOPLE  S  BOOK  OP  BIOGRAPHY. 

vicletl  for  him.  Most  of  the  faces  surroimding  the  table  on  this 
occasion  were  those  of  old  friends  and  neighbors,  and  Washing- 
ton was  deeply  moved  by  this  affectionate  tribute.  As  he  pro- 
ceeded northward,  people  came  out  into  the  highways  to  see 
him  pass,  and  there  was  no  town  or  village  upon  the  route,  but 
appointed  its  deputation  to  welcome  and  escort  him.  Baltimore, 
both  on  his  arrival  and  departure,  sent  forth  a  numerous  caval- 
cade, and  gave  him  a  salute  of  artillery.  Chester  detained  him 
at  a  public  breakfast,  and  he  passed  through  Philadelphia  under 
triumphal  arches  and  hailed  by  the  cheers  of  the  people.  Tren- 
ton—  where,  twelve  years  before,  he  had  won  the  first  victory 
of  the  Revolution  —  gave  him  a  reception  which  made  an 
ineffaceable  impression  upon  his  mind.  The  mothers  of  the 
city  here  gathered  at  the  bridge  over  the  Delaware,  and,  as  he 
passed  under  a  triumphal  arch  erected  upon  the  bridge,  thirteen 
young  girls,  clad  in  white  dresses,  and  adorned  with  garlands, 
scattered  flowers  in  his  path,  singing  as  they  did  so  an  ode  in 
his  honor. 

At  Elizabethtown,  where  a  committee  of  both  Houses  of  Con- 
gress, and  the  Mayor  and  Corporation  of  New  York  were  in 
waitiui?  to  receive  him,  he  was  conducted  on  board  of  a  mas:- 
nificent  barge  constructed  for  the  purpose.  Thirteen  New  York 
pilots,  in  white  uniform,  manned  and  rowed  this  vessel.  A  fleet 
of  other  boats  and  barges,  decorated  with  streamers  and  ribbons, 
followed  the  stately  craft  that  bore  the  president-elect ;  and  as 
the  beautiful  procession  glided  through  the  narrow  strait  be- 
tween New  Jersey  and  Staten  Island,  other  boats,  gay  with 
flags  and  streamers,  fell  into  line ;  until,  emerging  into  the 
broad  harbor,  the  whole  fleet  swept  up  to  the  city,  while  bands 
of  music  and  patriotic  songs  were  heard  on  every  side.  Every 
ship  in  the  bay  was  dressed  as  on  festive  occasions,  and  saluted 
the  general's  barge  as  it  passed. 

As  the  president-elect  drew  near  the  landing-place,  there  was 
a  ringing  of  bells,  a  roar  of  artillery,  and  a  shouting  from  the 
assembled  multitude,  such  as  had  never  before  been  heard  in 
America.  The  governor  of  the  State  received  him  upon  tho 
wharf,  and  there,  too,  was  General  Knox  and  other  soldiers  of 
the  Revolution.     A  carriage  stood  ready  to  convey  him  to  the 


INAUGURATION    OF    WASUINGTON.  19 

rosidoncc  prcparoc  for  him,  and  a  carpet  had  hccn  spread  from 
the  carriage  door  to  the  boat.  As  he  intimated  a  preference  to 
walk,  a  procession  was  formed,  which  increased  as  the  proces- 
sion of  boats  had  d(  nc  upon  the  water.  Every  house  by  which 
he  passed  was  decorated  with  flags  and  banners,  and  bore  some 
kind  of  emblem  or  sentence  containing  a  compliment  to  him- 
self. To  the  ladies  who  filled  the  windows,  who  waved  their 
handkerchiefs,  and  who  shed  flowers  and  tears  before  him,  ho 
took  oft'  his  hat  and  bowed  politely. , 

This  ovation,  as  we  can  perceive  in  Washington's  diary,  was 
rather  saddening  than  cheering  to  him.  He  wrote  in  his  diary 
that  eveninc: :  — 

"  The  display  of  boats  which  attended  and  joined  us  on  this 
occasion,  some  with  vocal  and  some  with  instrumental  music  on 
board ;  the  decorations  of  the  ships,  the  roar  of  cannon,  and  the 
loud  acclamations  of  the  people  which  rent  the  skies  as  I  passed 
along  the  wharves,  filled  my  mind  with  sensations  as  painful 
(considering  the  reverse  of  this  scene  which  may  be  the  case 
after  all  my  labors  to  do  good)  as  the}^  are  pleasing." 

There  was  still  some  delay.  The  question  arose  in  Congress 
by  what  title  the  president  should  be  addressed.  Some  pro- 
posed '*His  Excellency;"  others,  "His  Highness ;".  others, 
*''  His  Serene  Highness."  One  party  wished  him  to  be  addressed 
as  "  His  Hi2:hness,  the  President  of  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica  and  Protector  of  their  Liberties."  It  was  wisely  concluded, 
however,  after  many  days'  debate,  that  he  should  have  no  title 
except  the  simple  name  of  his  office,  "  President  of  the  United 
States." 

It  was  on  the  30th  of  April  that  the  ceremony  of  the  in- 
auguration at  length  took  place.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing religious  services  were  performed  in  all  the  churches  of  the 
city.  At  twelve  o'clock,  the  military  companies  of  New  York 
halted  before  the  door  of  Washington's  residence,  and,  a  half 
an  hour  after,  the  procession  moved  in  the  following  order : 
First,  the  troops ;  next,  the  committees  of  both  houses  of 
Congress  in  carriages ;  next,  the  president-elect  in  a  grand 
state-coach ;  next,  his  aide-de-camp  and  his  secretarj^  in  one  of 
the  general's  own  carriages ;  and  the  j)rocession  was  closed  by 


20  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGK^PHY. 

the  carriages  of  the  foreign  ministers  and  a  train  of  citizens. 
When  the  head  of  the  procession  had  reached  the  hall,  it 
halted,  the  troops  were  drawn  up  on  each  side  of  the  pavement, 
and  between  them  General  Washington  and  his  attendants 
walked  to  the  building  and  ascended  to  the  senate-chamber, 
where  the  vice-president  advanced  to  meet  him,  and  conducted 
him  to  a  chair  of  state. 

The  whole  assembly  sat  in  silence  for  a  minute  or  two,  when 
the  vice-president  rose  and  informed  General  Washington  that 
all  things  were  now  ready  for  him  to  take  the  oath  which  the 
constitution  required;  and,  so  saying,  he  conducted  the  presi- 
dent-elect to  a  balcony,  in  full  view  of  the  people  assembled  in 
the  street  and  covering  the  roofs  of  the  houses.  In  the  centre 
of  this  balcony  there  was  a  table  covered  with  crimson  velvet, 
in  the  middle  of  which,  upon  a  cushion  of  the  same  material, 
lay  a  richly  bound  Bible.  The  eyes  of  a  great  multitude  w^ere 
fixed  upon  the  balcony  at  the  moment  when  Washington  came 
into  view,  accompanied  by  the  vice-president,  the  chancellor 
of  the  State  of  New  York,  and  other  distinguished  official  per- 
sons. He  was  dressed  in  a  manner  which  displa^^ed  the  majesty 
of  his  form  to  excellent  advantage.  His  full  suit  of  dark-brown 
cloth  was  relieved  by  a  steel-hilted  sword,  by  white  silk  stock- 
ings and  silver  shoe-buckles ;  and  his  hair  was  powdered  and 
gathered  into  a  bag  behind,  in  the  fashion  of  that  day.  The 
crowd  "greeted  him  with  enthusiastic  cheers.  Cominsf  forward 
to  the  front  of  the  balcony,  he  bowed  several  times  to  the 
people,  with  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  then  retreated,  some- 
what hastily,  to  an  arm-chair  near  the  table,  and  sat  down. 

When  all  was  hushed  into  silence,  Washington  again  rose, 
and  came  forward,  and  stood  in  view  of  all  the  people,  with  the 
vice-president  on  his  right,  and  Chancellor  Livingston,  who 
was  to  administer  the  oath,  on  the  left.  When  the  chancellor 
was  about  to  begin,  the  secretary  of  the  Senate  held  up  the 
Bible  on  its  crimson  cushion ;  and  while  the  oath  was  read, 
Washington  laid  his  hand  upon  the  open  book.  When  the 
reading  was  finished,  he  said,  with  great  solemnity  of  man- 
ner:  — 

"  I  swear ;  so  help  me  God  I  '* 


INAUGURATION    OF  ^Y  A  S  III  N  G  T  O  X.  21 

After  which,  ho  bowed  and  kissed  the  book.  The  ch;incel- 
lor,  then,  waving  his  hand  toward  the  people,  cried  out :  — 

"Long  live  George  Washington,  President  of  the  United 
States  I  " 

The  preconcerted  signal  was  then  given,  and,  at  once,  all  the 
bells  in  the  town  rang  a  triumphant  peal ;  the  cannons  were 
fired ;  and  the  people  gave  cheer  upon  cheer.  The  president 
now  bowed  once  more  to  the  multitude,  and  returned  to  the 
senate-chamber,  where  he  resumed  his  seat  in  the  chair  of  state. 
When  silence  w\as  restored,  he  rose  and  began,  in  a  low,  deep, 
and  somewhat  tremulous  voice,  to  read  that  no])le  inauj^ural 
address,  so  full  of  dignity,  wisdom,  and  pathos.  The  opening 
sentences  ^verc  singularly  ajffecting  :  — 

^  Fellow- Citizens  of  the  Senate,  and  of  the  House  of  llepre- 
sentatives :  — 
"  Amonir  the  vicissitudes  incident  to  life,  no  event  could  have 


o 


filled  me  with  greater  anxieties  than  that  of  which  the  notifica- 
tion was  transmitted  by  your  order,  and  received  on  the  four- 
teenth day  of  the  present  month.  On  the  one  hand,  I  was 
summoned  by  my  country,  w^hose  voice  I  can  never  hear  but 
with  veneration  and  love,  from  a  retreat  w^hich  I  had  chosen 
with  the  fondest  predilection,  and,  in  my  flattering  hopes,  with 
an  immutable  decision,  as  the  asylum  of  my  declining  years  ;  a 
retreat  which  w\as  rendered  every  day  more  necessary,  as  Avell 
as  more  dear  to  me,  by  the  addition  of  habit  to  inclination,  and 
of  frequent  interruptions  in  my  health,  to  the  gradual  waste 
committed  on  it  by  time.  On  the  other  hand,  the  magnitude 
and  difficulty  of  the  trust  to  wiiich  the  voice  of  my  country 
called  me,  being  sufficient  to  awaken  in  the  wisest  and  most 
experienced  of  her  citizens  a  distrustful  scrutin}^  into  his  quali- 
fications, could  not  but  overwhelm  with  despondence  one,  who, 
inheriting  inferior  endowments  from  nature,  and  unpractised  in 
the  duties  of  civil  administration,  ought  to  be  peculiarly  con- 
scious of  his  own  deficiencies.  In  this  conflict  of  emotions,  all 
I  dare  aver  is,  that  it  has  been  my  faithful  studj^  to  collect  my 
duty  from  a  just  appreciation  of  every  circumstance  by  which 
it  might  be  efibcted.     All  I  dare  hope  is  that  if,  in  executin 


or 

O 


22  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

this  task,  I  have  been  too  much  swayed  by  a  grateful  remem- 
brance of  former  instances,  or  by  an  affectionate  sensibility  to 
this  transcendent  proof  of  the  confidence  of  my  fellow-citizens, 
and  have  thence  too  little  consulted  my  incapacity  as  well  as 
disinclination  for  the  weighty  and  untried  cares  before  me,  my 
error  will  be  palliated  by  the  motives  which  misled  me,  and  its 
consequences  be  judged  by  my  country  with  some  share  of  the 
partiality  in  which  they  originated." 

He  then  proceeded  to  give  an  outline  of  his  opinion  respect- 
ing the  policy  to  be  adopted  by  the  new  government,  and  con- 
cluded by  a  psalm-like  invocation :  — 

"  Having  thus  imparted  to  you  my  sentiments,  as  they  have 
been  awakened  by  the  occasion  which  brings  us  together,  I  shall 
take  my  present  leave ;  but  not  without  resorting  once  more  to 
the  benign  Parent  of  the  human  race,  in  humble  supplication, 
that  since  He  has  been  pleased  to  favor  the  American  people 
W'ith  ojDportunities  for  deliberating  in  perfect  tranquillity,  and 
dispositions  for  deciding  with  unparalleled  unanimity  on  a  form 
of  government  for  the  security  of  their  union,  and  the  advance- 
ment of  their  happiness,  so  his  divine  blessing  may  be  equally 
conspicuous  in  the  enlarged  views,  the  temperate  consultations, 
and  the  w^ise  measures,  on  which  the  success  of  this  government 
must  depend." 

After  the  address  the  president  and  vice-president,  followed 
by  both  houses  of  Congress  and  a  large  number  of  officers,  civil 
and  militaiy,  walked  to  St.  Paul's  Church  in  Broadway,  where 
a  religious  service  was  conducted  hy  the  Bishop  of  the  Episco- 
pal Church  of  New  York.  It  was  a  universal  holiday  in  the 
city,  and  in  the  evening  many  houses  were  illuminated,  and 
there  was  a  display  (^f  fireworks. 


OLD    DE.    NOTT.  23 


OLD  DR.  NOTT. 


-♦o^ 


l^Js'Owi.KDGE  has  always  been  in  New  England  the  royal  road 
to  eminence. 

Yankee  boys,  bonnd  to  the  high  places  of  the  world,  nsually 
have  a  life  like  this :  First  avc  see  them  on  a  father's  farm,  lioe- 
ing  corn,  doing  chores,  and,  in  the  winter  months,  flounderii]g 
through  the  snow  to  the  district  school,  where  they  learn  to 
read,  write,  and  cipher.  This  stage  brings  them,  perhaps,  to 
their  fourteenth  year,  w4icn  something  occurs — the  reading  of 
a  book,  a  conversation  with  an  educated  relative  or  visitor,  the 
coming  of  a  superior  teacher  —  which  causes  them  to  fall  in 
love  with  knowledge.  Then,  with  all  the  ardor  and  resolution 
which  distinguish  the  Yankee  race,  they  proceed  to  gratify  the 
new-born  passion,  by  devouring  all  the  books  procurable  in 
their  native  county.  From  desultory  reading  they  advance  to 
systematic  study,  and  so  w^ork  their  way  to  college,  or  else 
enter  a  house  of  business,  and  march  on  to  distinction  in  a  pro- 
fession or  in  practical  affairs.  Sometimes  these  stalwart,  large- 
brained  men  unite  in  themselves  the  aptitude  for  acquiring 
knowledge  with  a  great  talent  for  business,  and  thus  become 
both  learned  and  rich,  both  wise  and  powerful.  Isaac  Hill,  who 
for  many  years  almost  controlled  the  politicsof  New  Hampshire, 
and  represented  that  state  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  in 
General  Jackson's  time,  used  to  say,  that,  by  the  time  he  was 
fourteen  years  old,  he  had  read  every  book  Avithin  seven  miles 
of  his  father's  house.  Horace  Greeley,  too,  was  in  the  habit  of 
scouring  the  country  far  and  near,  in  search  of  books. 

So  was  it  with  Dr.  Eliphalet  Nott,  President,  for  sixty-one 
years,  of  Union  College,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  who  died, 
in  the  ninety-third  year  of  his  age. 

Born  at  Ashford,  Connecticut,  June  28,  1773,  — three  years 


24:  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGRAPHY. 

before  the  declaration  of  indepencleiice,  —  of  parents  Avbo  culti- 
vated a  small  and  inferior  farm,  he  was  left  an  orphan  at  an 
early  age,  and  was  brought  up  to  hard  farm  labor  in  the  family 
of  a  relative.  This  relative,  also,  was  very  poor,  and  the 
orphan  had  no  kind  of  external  advantage  over  his  companions. 
On  the  contrar}^,  in  a  State  where  no  honest  people  suffered 
want,  but  where  few  were  much  above  want,  Eliphalet  Nott 
was  much  below  the  average  in  point  of  wordly  possessions  and 
prospects.  By  unremitting  toil  upon  a  flirm  he  earned  a  liveli- 
hood, —  no  more. 

New  England  has  never  been  so  poor,  either  in  purse  or  in 
spirit,  as  not  to  be  both  able  and  willing  to  impart  to  the  poor- 
est of  her  children  the  rudiments  of  knowledge.  This  poor 
lad,  therefore,  found  a  common  school  within  his  reach  a  part 
of  every  year,  and  the  little  that  he  learned  at  it  gave  rise  at 
length  to  a  fiery  and  unquenchable  thirst  for  knowledge,  —  such 
knowledoje  as  could  not  be  attained  in  a  remote  Connecticut 
town  by  a  3^outh  without  a  dollar  at  his  command.  Difficulty, 
which  discourages  the  weak,  is  inspiration  to  the  strong,  and 
this  youth  was  one  of  those  who  generally  obtain  what  they 
ardentl}^  desire.  His  eldest  brother,  too,  heir  to  the  same 
poverty  as  himself,  had  worked  his  own  way  to  a  learned 
education,  and  was  then  a  clergyman,  settled  in  a  parish  not 
far  off.  The  early  tastes  of  Eliphalet  Nott  were  not  such  as  to 
incline  him  to  theology.  The  natural  sciences  were  his  first 
love,  and  they  were  always  the  natural  bent  of  his  mind.  If  he 
had  been  born  in  a  country  where  theology  was  less  in  vogue 
than  it  was  in  the  New  England  of  that  time,  he  had  probably 
been  only  known,  if  known  at  all,  as  a  natural  philosopher. 

As  he  was  working  in  a  field  one  day  in  hib  fourteenth  year, 
brooding  over  the  obstacles  in  his  way  to  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge,  and  fully  resolved  upon  soon  making  an  effort  to 
surmount  them,  the  doctor  of  the  village  chanced  to  pass  along 
the  road.  An  idea  seized  the  lad.  Leavius:  his  farmius:  tools 
in  the  field,  he  followed  the  doctor  to  his  house,  and  asked  to 
be  taken  into  his  office  as  a  student  of  medicine.  The  doctor 
was  unable  to  comply  with  this  request,  but  it  led  to  a  long 
conversation,  in  which  the  young  man  made  known  his  secret 


OLDDR.NOTT.  25 

longings,  and  the  pli^'sician  gave  liim  advice  as  to  the  maimer 
in  Avhicli  he  might  proceed  to  satisfy  them.  Among  other 
things,  he  advised  him  to  visit  his  brother,  the  pastor  of  the 
cluirch  in  the  villa2:e  of  Franklin. 

The  youth  acted  npon  this  advice.  His  brother  received  him 
with  a  brotherly  Avelcome,  and  oficred  him  all  the  assistance  in 
his  power.  A  Connecticut  clergyman  of  that  day,  with  his 
salar}^  of  three  hundred  dollars  a  year,  or  less,  and  tlie  average 
clerical  family  of  six  children,  or  more,  could  not  be  expected 
to  maintain  a  hungry,  growing  brother  of  fifteen.  But  he  did 
for  him  what  he  could,  and  gave  him  what  he  had  to  give, 
namely,  a  home  in  his  own  house,  and  instruction  in  Latin  and 
Greek,  while  the  lad  earned  a  little  money  by  teaching  a 
district  school. 

Four  3'ears  passed.  Early  and  late  he  toiled.  His  perfect 
temperance,  a  constitution  developed  and  hardened  by  labor,  a 
good  system  of  laying  out  his  time,  and  his  burning  love  of 
knowledge,  enabled  him,  in  that  short  period,  not  merely  to 
prepare  for  college,  but  to  exhaust  the  whole  college  course,  as 
then  established.  At  nineteen,  he  was  competent  to  stand  the 
examination  for  a  degree  of  JNIaster  of  Arts,  and  this  degree 
was  actually  conferred  upon  hiui  by  Brow^i  University  without 
his  having  attended  college  a  day.  I  believe,  however,  that  this 
rare  honor  was  conferred  upon  him  w^ith  the  understanding  that 
he  Avould  enter  the  ministry.  This  vocation  he  had  already 
chosen,  and,  after  the  usual  three  years'  course  of  study,  he 
was  ordaiued.  He  was  then  twenty-two.  It  was  the  year 
1794,  in  the  second  term  of  ^Yashington's  presidency. 

The  next  step  of  this  young  man  w\as  another  proof  of  his 
strong,  self-confiding  character.  As  no  suitable  field  of  labor 
opened  to  him  in  Connecticut,  he  resolved  to  pack  his  saddle- 
bags, mount  his  horse,  and  try  his  fortune  in  the  State  of  Kcw 
York,  w^est  of  Albany,  then  mostly  a  w^ilderness,  but  rapidly 
filling  up  with  emigrants.  That  part  of  New  York  Avhich  lies 
between  Albany  and  Utica  was  then  what  Minnesota,  AViscon- 
sin,  Iowa,  and  Kansas  are  now% — that  is,  the  forming,  the  filling- 
up  region.  He  did  not  go  alone  to  this  new  country.  Ho 
ttsked  the  daughter  of  a  clergyman  to  go  w^ith  him  and  share  his 


20  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGllAPHT. 

destiny  ;  and,  as  both  father  and  daughter  consented,  he  bought 
another  horse,  and  husband  and  Avife  set  out  together.  lu 
those  simple  old  days,  people  did  not  always  find  it  necessary 
to  wait  to  be  married  till  they  had  fought  and  won  the  battle 
of  life,  but  sometimes  husband  and  wife  fought  the  battle 
together.  In  every  age,  however,  a  strong,  valiant,  temperate 
virtuous  man,  inured  to  toil,  and  knowing  a  profession  or  trade, 
may  safely  marry  the  instant  he  finds  a  girl  who  is  also  strong, 
virtuous,  inured  to  labor,  and  w^illing  to  share  whatever  fortune 
has  in  store  for  him.  These  two  young  people  starting  out  to- 
gether in  quest  of  a  sphere  of  honorable  labor,  —  what  a  sublime 
wedding-trip  compared  with  those  now  in  fashion  ! 

Albany  w^as  the  first  large  town  at  which  he  halted.  He 
looked  about  him  there,  but,  observing  that  a  large  number  of 
the  people  still  spoke  Dutch,  he  concluded  to  push  on  furthei 
west.  A  ride  of  fifty-five  miles  brought  him  to  the  vigorous 
new  settlement  of  Cherry  Valley,  a  village  just  rising  among  the 
blackened  stumps  of  tho  primeval  forest.  As  he  had  then 
reached  the  outpost  of  civilization  in  that  direction,  and  as  he 
liked  the  place  and  the  people,  there  he  determined  to  remain. 
Gifted  as  he  was  with  a  lofty  and  flowing  eloquence,  his  preach- 
ing drew  around  him  a  large  circle  of  hearers,  and  I  believe  he 
still  added  to  his  clerical  labors  the  charge  of  a  school. 

He  was  suflered  to  remain  only  two  years  in  the  obscurity  of 
a  frontier  village.  The  fame  of  his  talents  reaching  Albany,  he 
was  invited  to  become  the  pastor  of  one  of  its  principal  churches, 
and  he  accepted  the  invitation. 

It  was  while  he  held  this  position  that  the  lamentable  duel 
occurred  between  Hamilton  and  Burr.  He  was  personally  ac- 
quainted with  both  those  distinguished  lawyers,  who  frequently 
visited  Albany  in  the  practice  of  their  profession.  Hamilton 
being  the  chief  and  fixvorite  of  the  Federal  party,  to  which  Mr. 
Nott  belonged,  the  young  preacher  mourned  his  fall,  both  as  a 
national  and  a  pi'ivate  calamity.  If  any  man  was  Eliphalet 
Nott's  master  in  eloquence,  it  was  Alexander  Hamilton.  The 
same  blending  of  fluency  and  vigor  which  marked  the  pleadings 
of  the  great  advocate  characterized  the  sermons  of  the  great 
preacher ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Nott  heard  vrith  rapture 


OLD    DR.    NOTT.  27 

that  last  great  cflbrt  of  Hamilton,  Avlicn  he  pleaded  at  All)any 
for  the  freedom  of  the  press,  a  few  months  before  his  death. 
The  clergy  of  the  country  being  invited  to  preach  on  the  prac- 
tice of  duelling,  Mr.  Nott  delivered  a  sermon  which,  perhaps, 
may  be  pronounced  the  most  eloquent  and  stril^ing  ever  deliv- 
ered in  the  United  States.  The  special  charm  of  this  sermon 
was,  that,  while  heaping  high  eulogium  upon  Hamilton,  the  au- 
thor was  charitable  and  even  compassionate  toward  the  real 
victim  of  the  tragedy,  Aaron  Burr. 

"Hamilton,"  said  the  gifted  preacher,  "yielded  to  the  force 
of  an  imperious  custom,  and,  yielding,  he  sacrificed  a  life  in 
-which  all  had  an  interest;  and  he  is  lost  —  lost  to  his  family  — 
lost  to  us.  For  this  act,  because  he  disclaimed  it  and  was  peni- 
tent, I  forgive  him.  But  there  are  those  whom  I  cannot  forgive. 
I  mean  not  his  antagonist,  over  whose  erring  steps,  if  there  be 
tears  in  heaven,  a  pious  mother  looks  dow^n  and  weeps.  If  he 
is  capable  of  feeling,  he  suifers  already  all  that  humanity  can 
suffer :  suffers,  and,  wherever  he  may  fly,  will  suffer  with  the 
poignant  recollection  of  having  taken  the  life  of  one  who  was 
too  magnanimous  in  return  to  attempt  his  own.  Had  he  but 
known  this,  it  must  have  paralyzed  his  arm  while  it  pointed  at 
so  incorruptible  a  bosom  the  instrument  of  death.  Docs  he 
know  this  now?  his  heart,  if  it  be  not  adamant,  must  soften; 
if  it  be  not  ice,  it  must  melt.  But  on  this  article  I  forbear. 
Stained  with  blood  as  he  is,  if  he  be  penitent,  I  forgive  him ; 
and  if  he  be  not,  before  these  altars,  where  all  of  us  appear  as 
suppliants,  I  "svish  not  to  excite  your  vengeance,  but  rather,  in 
behalf  of  an  object  rendered  wretched  and  pitiable  by  crime,  to 
-vvake  your  prayers." 

This  sermon  had  a  prodigious  effect  at  the  time.  Edition 
after  edition  was  sold.  It  had  much  to  do  with  bringing  duel- 
ling into  disrepute  in  the  Northern  States.  It  had  also  an  im- 
portant inlluence  upon  the  career  of  the  author,  for  it  led  directly 
to  his  being  invited  to  another  sphere  of  labor,  in  which  he  spent 
the  remainder  of  his  life. 

After  a  residence  of  nearly  seven  years  at  Albany,  Dr.  Xott 
was  called  to  the  presidency  of  Union  College,  an  infant  insti- 


28  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

tution  struggling  to  exist.  In  raising  this  college  from  poverty 
and  insignificance  to  the  position  in  which  he  left  it,  he  displayed 
talents  for  the  despatch  of  business  that  would  have  sufficed  for 
the  government  of  a  nation.  He  obtained  some  help  from  the 
legislature  ;  a  large  capital  was  raised  by  a  system  of  lotteries  ; 
his  own  name  was  a  powerful  attraction ;  and  he  was,  besides, 
one  of  the  most  skilful  and  laborious  of  teachers. 

Besides  irovernins:  the  collec^e,  he  found  time  also  to  accumu- 
late  for  himself  a  colossal  fortune.  Every  one  remembers  the 
"Nott  Stove,"  that  was  in  use  until  within  these  few  years,  and 
which,  indeed,  is  still  occasionally  seen.  Indulging  his  early 
taste  for  the  natural  sciences,  his  attention  w^as  drawn  to  anthra- 
cite coal,  which  for  many  years  baffled  every  attempt  to  turn  it 
to  account  as  house-warming  fuel.  Dr.  Nott  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  be  the  first  to  overcome  this  difficulty,  and  his  stove  had, 
in  consequence,  an  immense  currency.  There  was  a  time  when 
almost  every  house  of  any  pretensions  had  a  Nott  stove  in  its 
entry.  The  stove  patents  of  Dr.  Nott  produced  a  vast  revenue, 
so  that  in  his  old  age  he  was  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  State 
of  New  York  west  of  Albany. 

In  1854,  which  was  the  fiftieth  year  of  his  presidency,  and 
the  eighty-first  of  his  life,  he  performed  an  act  which  might  be 
styled  generous,  but  which  I  prefer  to  call  simply  sensible.  He 
laid  down  part  of  his  load.  In  other  words,  he  gave  to  Union 
College,  as  a  permanent  endowment,  a  considerable  part  of  his 
fortune,  namely,  a  sum  of  six  hundred  and  ten  thousand  dollars. 
By  this  sum  he  provided  for  the  support  of  nine  professors 
and  six  assistant  professors,  as  well  as  for  the  purchase  of  books 
and  apparatus,  the  assistance  of  a  large  number  of  meritorious 
students,  and  the  delivery  of  annual  courses  of  lectures.  Be- 
stowing this  endowment  upon  the  college  during  his  own  life- 
time, he  was  enabled  personally  to  superintend  its  investment 
and  expenditure,  and  he  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  some  of  the 
results  of  his  gift. 

The  best  achievement  of  a  human  being  is  to  live  a  great  and 
good  life.  Eliphalet  Nott  was  one  of  the  few  to  whom  it  was 
given  to  do  this.     Inheriting  an  almost  perfect  bodily  constitu- 


OLU    1)11.    NOTT.  '2[) 

tion,  a  form  symmetrical,  and  a  countenance  of  manly  l>cauty, 
witli  talents  l)otli  to  utter  and  to  do,  he  made  the  most  of  these 
advantages,  and  used  them  all  in  the  service  of  the  less  gifted 
of  his  species ;  for  which  purpose,  and  for  that  alone,  they  wcro 
conferred  upon  him.  So  living,  he  was  one  of  the  happiest  and 
most  cheerful  of  men 


.lO  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


.>. 


JOHN    HOWARD. 


-•o»- 


NovESiBER  the  1st,  1755,  the  people  of  Lisbon  were  alarmed 
hy  that  awful  rumbling  beneath  the  earth  which,  as  they  well 
knew,  nsually  preceded  an  earthquake.  Before  they  could 
escape  from  their  houses,  the  shock  came,  which  overthrew  the 
greater  part  of  the  city,  and  buried  thousands  of  persons  in  its 
ruins.  The  sea  retired,  leaving  the  bottom  of  the  harbor  bare, 
but  immediately  returned  in  a  fearful  wave  fifty  feet  high,  over- 
whelminof  every thin^^  in  its  course.  The  inhabitants  who  could 
get  clear  of  the  ruins  rushed  in  thousands  to  a  magnificent 
marble  wharf,  just  completed,  which  seemed  to  offer  a  pkice  of 
safety.  This  massive  structure,  densely  covered  with  men, 
women,  and  children,  suddenly  sunk,  bearing  with  it  to  un- 
known depths  the  entire  multitude.  JS'ot  a  creature  escaped ; 
not  a  human  body  rose  again  to  the  surface  ;  not  a  fragment  of 
anything  that  was  on  the  wharf  was  ever  again  seen  by  human 
eye;  and  when,  by  and  by,  the  water  was  sounded  over  the 
place  where  it  had  stood,  the  depth  was  found  to  be  six  hun- 
dred feet.  Within  the  space  of  six  minutes,  sixty  thousand 
persons  are  supposed  to  have  perished ;  and  those  who  survived 
were  so  encompassed  about  with  horror,  that  they  might  well 
have  envied  those  whom  the  sea  had  submerged  or  the  falling 
houses  crushed. 

Not  Lisbon  alone,  but  all  Portugal,  was  shaken  b}^  this  tre- 
mendous convulsion,  which  was  felt,  indeed,  over  a  third  part 
of  the  earth.  The  same  shock  which  almost  destroyed  Lisbon 
shook  <lown  chimneys  in  Massachusetts  and  jarred  the  habita- 
tions in  Iceland.  But  it  was  in  Portu2:al  that  its  force  was 
chiefly  spent.  There,  mountains  were  rent,  towns  engulfed, 
farms  moved  away  in  a  mass,  rivers  turned  from  their  course. 


JOHN    IIOWArvD.  31 

the  whole  Liiul  dcsoljited,  iind  all  the  inhabitants  paralyzed  witli 
terror.  AVhen  the  earthquake  had  sul)sided,  fires  broke  out  in 
the  prostrated  towns,  and  bands  of  robbers,  in  the  total  suspen- 
sion of  government,  ravaged  and  plundered  the  helpless  people, 
and  committed  every  kind  of  abominable  excess.  During  all 
that  winter  the  suflerings  of  the  people  were  grievous,  and  to 
this  day  Portugal  has  not  recovered  from  the  stroke. 

Such  an  event,  at  any  time,  Avoiild  have  excited  universal 
consternation,  and  called  forth  a  great  deal  of  remark ;  but 
there  were  some  circumstances  peculiar  to  that  period  which 
caused  it  to  come  with  special  powder  upon  reflecting  minds. 
The  fashionable  philosophy  then  was  that  of  Pope's  Essay  on 
Man,  which  had  been  translated  into  French  and  Germ;in,  and 
was  continually  quoted  in  society.  It  was  very  common  to  hear 
such  expressions  as,  "Whatever  is  is  right;"  "Partial  evil  is 
the  general  good;"  "This  is  the  best  of  possible  worlds;" 
"  Each  creature  is  as  happy  as  is  consistent  with  the  happiness 
of  the  whole."  Sentiments  of  this  kind  we  now  call  "  Optim- 
ism." In  the  midst  of  all  this  shallow  talk,  came  the  tidings 
of  an  appalling  catastrophe,  wdiich  struck  every  soul  with 
amazement  and  terror,  as  if  to  show  the  futility  of  all  human 
attempts  to  form  a  consistent  theory  respecting  the  government 
of  the  universe.  The  youthful  Goethe  and  the  aged  Voltaire 
have  both  left  records  in  their  works  of  the  effect  of  the  Lisbon 
earthquake  upon  the  glib  praters  of  Optimism,  as  well  as  of  the 
universal  and  lonsr-continued  horror  which  it  excited  in  the 
public  mind. 

It  was  this  catastrophe  which  was  the  means  of  calling  into 
exercise  the  latent  benevolence  of  John  Howard,  who  is  now 
styled  in  all  lands  and  tongues,  "^/^e  philanthropist." 

The  fither  of  this  benevolent  being  was  noted  for  his  penu- 
riousness.  He  was  a  member  of  the  lirm  of  Howard  and  Ham- 
ilton, upholsterers  and  carpet-dealers,  who,  for  fifty  3'ears  or 
more,  supplied  the  fashionable  people  of  London  with  their 
w\ares.  In  this  business,  Mr.  Howard  (who  was  also  named 
John)  acquired  a  very  handsome  fortune  ;  so  that,  beside  leav- 
ing a  liberal  independence  to  his  only  daughter,  he  bequeathed 
to  his  only  son  a  fine  landed  estate,  two  country  houses,  a  house 


32  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

in  London,  and  seven  thousand  pounds  sterling  in  money.  So 
penurious  was  he  in  his  old  age,  that  he  permitted  his  houses 
to  get  out  of  repair  to  such  a  degree  that  it  cost  his  son,  on 
coming  into  possession,  a  large  sum  to  render  them  comfortable. 
His  avarice,  however,  did  not  prevent  him  sending  his  sou  to 
the  best  schools  the  dissenters  then  had  in  England ;  but  as  the 
teachers  in  those  schools  w^ere  selected,  not  for  their  fitness,  but 
for  their  creed,  they  were  not  always  very  capable  of  calling 
forth  the  energies  of  the  j^outhful  mind.  John  Howard,  there- 
fore, was  a  decidedly  illiterate  man.  He  spelled  very  incor- 
rectly, and  expressed  himself,  on  paper,  in  the  most  awkward 
and  ungrammatical  manner.  He  was,  probably,  a  dull  boy,  as 
he  w^as  rather  a  dull  man.  There  is  no  question  that,  in  point 
of  mere  intellect,  he  was  not  much  above  the  average  of  Eng- 
lish tradesmen. 

It  was  the  custom  at  that  day  for  the  sons  of  tradesmen,  no 
matter  how  rich  their  fathers  might  be,  to  be  regularly  appren- 
ticed for  seven  years  to  some  business.  Young  Howard  was 
apprenticed  to  a  great  firm  of  wholesale  grocers,  to  whom  his 
father  paid  seven  hundred  pounds  premium.  In  consideration 
of  this  large  sum,  the  apprentice  w^as  treated  like  a  younger  son 
of  the  head  partner.  He  was  allowed  to  keep  a  man-servant 
and  two  saddle-horses ;  he  rode  in  the  park  like  a  lord ;  he  took 
his  rides  into  the  country ;  his  pockets  had  plenty  of  money  in 
them ;  and,  in  short,  he  was  such  a  grocer's  apprentice  as  the 
modern  world  knows  nothing  about,  but  whose  pranks  may  be 
read  of  in  some  old  books.  This  particular  apprentice,  how- 
ever, was  a  very  serious  youth.  His  father  had  reared  him  in 
the  strictest  principles  of  the  Calvinistic  dissenters,  and  the  boy 
appears  to  have  imbibed  those  principles  heartily,  and  lived  in 
accordance  with  them  from  his  childhood  up.  He  was  guilty 
of  none  of  the  excesses  common  to  young  men  of  that  day,  and 
to  which  his  circumstances  appeared  to  invite  him.  At  an  early 
period  he  joined  a  dissenting  church,  with  which  he  remained 
connected  throus^h  life.  In  matters  of  mere  doctrine  he  was 
moderate  and  very  tolerant,  while  his  conduct  was  regulated  in 
the  most  rigid  conformity  with  his  profession.     Under  a  quiet 


JOHN    HOWARD.  33 

exteiior   he   concealed  a  l)urning  religious  enthusiasm,  Avliich 
filled  his  diary  ^villi   expressions  of  rapture  and  longing. 

In  1749,  ^vhen  he  "was  twenty-three  years  of  age,  his  father 
died.  His  apprenticeship  not  having  yet  expired,  he  bought 
the  remainder  of  his  time,  and  made  the  tour  of  Europe.  On 
this  tour,  so  far  as  is  known,  he  felt  no  particular  interest  in  the 
objects  which  afterwards  absorbed  his  mind  whenever  he  trav- 
elled. He  bought  a  large  number  of  pictures,  sculptui'cs,  and 
curiosities,  with  which  he  decorated  his  favorite  country-seat, 
and  comported  himself,  in  all  respects,  like  an  ordinary  travel- 
ler. He  took  pains,  however,  to  acquire  the  languages  of  the 
countries  which  he  visited,  particularly  the  French,  in  which 
he  conversed  w^ith  much  fluency. 

After  a  residence  abroad  of  a  year  or  two,  he  returned  home, 
and  occupied  himself  with  the  study  of  natural  philosophy,  and 
read  some  medical  works,  little  thinking  at  the  time  of  what  use 
his  slight  knowledge  of  medicine  w^ould  be  to  him  in  after  years. 
He  was  one  of  those  gentlemen  who  are  fond  of  observing  the 
thermometer,  and  making  very  exact  records  of  its  variations. 
In  everything  he  was  an  exact  man,  extremely  punctual,  scrupu- 
lously just ;  and  he  demanded  from  his  servants  the  same  quali- 
ties. The  only  evidence  which  he  gave,  at  this  period,  of  unu- 
sual benevolence,  was  his  great  liberality  in  rewarding  those 
who  served  him,  his  frequent  gifts  to  the  church  which  he  at- 
tended, and  his  charitable  donations  to  the  poor  of  his  neigh- 
borhood. On  one  occasion  he  subscribed  fifty  pounds  toward 
building  a  parsonage  for  his  minister,  and  on  another  he  fur- 
nished his  church  with  a  new  pulpit. 

His  marriage  was  the  first  event  in  his  life  that  was  extraor- 
dinary ;  and  that  was  very  extraordinary.  In  his  twenty-fifth 
year  he  had  a  long  and  dangerous  illness.  When  he  was  first 
seized  he  was  living  in  lodgings  near  London,  where  he  fancied 
he  was  not  treated  with  the  attention  his  case  demanded.  He 
consequently  removed  to  the  house  of  a  widow,  who  was  herself 
a  confirmed  invalid,  and  fifty-two  years  of  age.  This  ladj',  who 
possessed  a  small  independence,  nursed  him  during  many  months 
with  such  tender  care  that  he  felt  toward  her  an  unbounded 
gratitude,  and,  upon  his  recovery,  he  ofiered  her  his  hand.     To 

3 


o4  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  remonstrances  of  the  lady  upon  the  great  disparity  of  their 
ages  and  fortune,  he  replied  with  such  persuasive  warmth  that 
her  scruples  were  overcome,  and  the  marriage  took  place.  AYith 
his  usual  fine  sense  of  justice,  he  caused  her  property  to  be  set- 
tled upon  her  sister. 

This  singular  marriage  between  a  man  of  twenty-five  and  a 
woman  of  fifty-two  was  productive,  as  Howard  alwaj^s  averred, 
of  nothing  but  happiness.  After  two  years  and  a  half  of  tranquil 
felicity,  the  lady  died.  During  the  last  six  months  of  her  life 
he  was  able  to  repay  her  care  of  him  in  his  own  sickness  by  at- 
tending her  in  hers.  He  watched  over  her,  day  and  night,  with 
all  the  devotion  and  tenderness  of  a  husband  whose  youthful 
bride  is  stricken  with  disease  in  the  honeymoon.  "I  would  give 
a  hundred  pounds,"  he  would  say,  "to  procure  her  one  night's 
sleep."  And  he  often  used  to  declare,  after  her  death,  that  if  he 
ever  married  again,  it  would  be  just  such  a  woman  that  he  would 
prefer. 

He  was  now  a  melancholy  w^idower.  A  day  or  two  after  the 
funeral  of  his  wife,  the  news  reached  England  of  the  destruction 
of  Lisbon  by  an  earthquake,  and  every  subsequent  arrival 
brought  new  details  of  the  catastrophe,  and  additional  particu- 
lars of  the  sufferings  of  the  people.  The  benevolence  of  all  lands 
w^as  keenly  touched  by  a  disaster  so  unprecedented  and  appall- 
ing, and  efibrts  were  everywhere  made  for  the  relief  of  the 
stricken  people  of  Portugal.  Howard  resolved  to  go  himself  and 
witness  the  scene,  and  lend  a  hand  to  the  relief  of  the  sufferers. 
It  is  probable,  however,  that  his  motive  in  going  to  Portugal 
w\as  not  wholly  one  of  benevolence.  He  wished  to  distract  his 
mind,  to  observe  the  phenomena  of  the  convulsion,  as  well  as  to 
?issuage  the  miseries  of  the  inhabitants. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  the  bloody  seven  years'  war  that  he 
took  passage  in  the  Lisbon  packet,  the  Hanover.  He  w^as  not 
destined  to  reach  his  port.  A  few  days  after  leaving  England 
the  packet  was  captured  by  a  French  privateer,  and  he,  with  all 
his  companions,  was  a  prisoner  of  war. 

He  noAV,  like  royal  Lear  in  the  forest,  w\as  called  to  endure 
the  anguish  "which  wretches  feel,"  and  which  he  spent  laborious 
years  in  assuaging.     The  privateer  was  forty  hours  in  reaching 


JOHN    HOWARD.  35 

the  nearest  French  port ;  and  during  that  time  the  prisoners  had 
not  a  drop  of  water  nor  an  atom  of  food.  Arriving  at  15rest, 
they  were  thrust  into  a  filth}^  dungeon  under  ground,  and  there 
again  they  were  kept  miserable  hours  without  nourishment.  At 
length  a  joint  of  mutton  was  thrown  down  into  their  dungeon, 
like  moat  into  a  dog-kennel ;  and  this,  for  want  of  a  knife,  they 
were  obliged  to  tear  to  pieces  with  their  hands.  For  six  days 
and  nights  they  were  detained  in  this  damp  and  stinking  hole, 
gnawing  bones,  and  sleeping  upon  wet  straw.  Removed  then  to 
another  town  and  a  better  prison,  his  jailer,  on  his  own  respon- 
sibility, permitted  him  to  live  iu  the  town  on  parole,  and  one  of 
the  inhabitants  was  so  impressed  with  a  sense  of  his  integrity'  as 
to  lend  him  money  upon  his  word  alone.  Being  thus  at  liberty, 
he  devoted  himself  to  an  investisfation  of  the  manner  in  which 
prisoners  of  war  were  treated  in  France.  He  ascertained,  by  cor- 
responding with  those  confined  in  other  towns,  and  by  personal 
inspection  of  the  prisons  near  at  hand,  that  they  were  treated 
with  horrible  ])arbarity.  "Hundreds  had  perished,  and  thirty- 
six  were  buried  in  a  hole  in  one  day." 

After  two  months'  detention,  he  was  allowed  to  go  to  Eng- 
land, on  this  condition  :  If  he  could  induce  the  British  govern- 
ment to  send  back  a  French  naval  officer  in  exchange,  he  was  at 
liberty  to  remain  ;  if  not,  he  was  to  return  to  France.  This  ex- 
change was  easily  effected,  and  he  was  a  free  man.  He  imme- 
diately laid  before  the  government  the  full  and  exact  information 
he  had  collected  respecting  the  treatment  of  the  prisoners,  which 
led  to  the  mitisration  of  their  sufferins^s,  and  2:reatlv  hastened 
their  exchange.  Three  ship-loads  of  prisoners  owed  their 
speedier  release  directly  to  his  exertions. 

He  always  said  that  it  was  personal  experience  and  observa- 
tion of  the  cruelties  inflicted  b}^  the  French  jailers  and  contract- 
ors npon  the  prisoners  of  war,  that  first  kindled  his  compassion 
for  those  of  his  fellow-men  Avho  have  no  one  to  stand  between 
them  and  the  arbitrary  will  of  un watched  officials. 

Howard  was  forty-six  years  of  age  before  he  entered  upon 
those  labors  wdiich  have  made  his  name  another  word  for 
philanthropy.  To  his  neighbors,  however,  and  especially  to 
his  tenants,  he  was  known,  long  before,  as  one  of  the  most 


36  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGJiAPHY. 

benevolent  of  men.  It  could  not  be  said  of  him  that  he  was 
generous  when  the  eye  of  the  public  was  upon  him,  and  mean 
in  the  seclusion  of  his  ow^n  estate.  He  was,  in  truth,  not  only 
a  most  liberal  and  considerate  landlord,  but  it  was  he  who  set 
the  fashion,  so  to  speak,  to  English  landlords  of  taking  an  in- 
terest in  the  welfare  of  their  poorer  neighbors  and  dependents. 
Some  of  his  plans  have  since  been  extensively  adopted,  to  the 
great  benefit  of  many  thousands  of  families. 

Soon  after  his  escape  from  France  he  married  a  lady  much 
better  suited  to  him,  in  age,  than  the  venerable  widow  who  had 
first  accepted  his  hand.  This  union  was  in  every  respect  for- 
tunate and  happy ;  for  his  wife  fully  concurred  wdth  him  in  his 
benevolent  schemes,  and  adapted  herself  to  his  peculiar  humors. 
Having  settled  upon  his  patrimonial  estate  at  Cardington,  in 
Bedfordshire,  he  divided  his  time  between  the  improvement  of 
his  gardens  and  grounds,  and  the  elevation  of  his  tenants.  Th^ 
village,  when  he  first  went  to  live  near  it,  w^as  little  more  than 
a  collection  of  huts  and  hovels,  usually  composed  of  one  or  two 
rooms,  in  which  large  families  lived  more  like  pigs  than  human 
beings.  Few  of  the  adults,  and  none  of  the  children,  could 
read.  There  were  no  schools  for  the  poor,  and  never  had  been, 
in  all  that  region  of  country.  The  men  wasted  their  earnings 
in  the  ale-house,  which  was  the  only  flourishing  establishment 
in  the  place ;  and  the  whole  of  the  laboring  population  was  so 
sunk  in  ignorance,  thriftlessness,  and  vice,  that  nothing  short 
of  the  determined  benevolence  of  a  How^ard  covdd  have  raised 
them  from  it.  Nor  was  this  state  of  things  peculiar  to  Bed- 
fordshire ;  the  description  of  Cardington  applied  to  half  the 
agricultural  parishes  of  England  a  hundred  years  ago. 

Howard  began  by  improving  the  dwellings  of  his  tenants. 
One  after  another,  he  pulled  down  the  ancient  hovels,  and 
built,  in  their  stead,  neat  and  convenient  cottages,  containing 
never  less  than  three  rooms.  To  each  cottage  he  attached  a 
small  garden  in  the  rear  for  vegetables,  and  in  front  a  little 
patch  for  flowers,  surrounding  the  whole  with  a  pretty  picket 
fence.  As  the  ground  was  low  and  marshy,  he  had  it  drained 
by  a  system  of  ditches,  which  almost  banished  from  the  place 
the  agues  and  the  fevers  to  which  the  inhabitants  had  before 


JOHN    HOWARD.  37 

been  subject.  When  he  had  completed  one  cottage,  he  let  it  to 
the  man  in  the  vill;ige  who  bore  the  best  character  for  sobriety 
and  industry ;  and  he  let  it  at  the  same  rent  which  was  paid  for 
the  Avretchcd  huts.  Howard,  I  may  hero  remark,  was  an 
excellent  man  of  business.  He  fixed  his  new  cottaijes  at  the 
old  rate  of  rent,  because  ho  found,  by  careful  calculation,  that 
that  rate  yielded  him  a  proper  return  for  the  capital  invested. 
It  is  ixreatlv  to  the  credit  of  his  ^ood  sense  and  ^ood  manai^e- 
ment,  that,  after  a  long  life  of  the  most  liberal  expenditure  for 
the  public  good,  he  left  his  estate  in  a  better  condition  than 
he  received  it  from  his  father.  This  cottafye-buildini?,  for 
example,  was  an  excellent  investment,  though  that  was  not  the 
motive  which  impelled  him  to  undertake  it. 

As  often  as  he  had  a  cottage  completed,  ho  looked  about  for 
a  sober  and  dili2:ent  tenant  for  it ;  so  that  his  cotta2:e-buildin2: 
furnished  a  most  powerful  inducement  to  reform.  Besides  this, 
he  let  his  cottages  on  certain  conditions  favorable  to  virtue  and 
good  order.  One  was,  that  the  tenant  should  go  to  church 
once  every  Sunday  ;  another,  that  he  should  never  go  to  the  ale- 
house ;  another,  that  he  should  never  gamble  ;  another,  that  he 
should  let  his  children  go  to  the  school  which  he  had  estab- 
lished for  them.  It  w^as  so  exceedingly  desirable  to  a  poor 
man  to  have  one  of  his  cottages,  with  a  £:arden  attached,  at  a 
rent  of  about  ten  dollars  a  year,  that  he  had  no  difficulty  in 
inducing  the  villagers  to  comply  wath  his  conditions.  He  con 
tinned  his  rebuilding:  until  all  the  old  cottao^es  that  beloni>ed  to 
him  had  given  place  to  new  ones ;  and  then  he  bought  others 
for  the  same  purpose.  One  of  his  neighbors,  too,  observing 
w^hat  an  excellent  effect  a  clean  and  proper  dwelling  had  upon 
the  morals  of  a  family,  followed  his  example,  and  built  a  con- 
siderable number  of  cottages;  so  that,  in  about  ten  years,  the 
whole  village  was  rebuilt,  and,  from  being  one  of  the  meanest, 
dirtiest,  and  most  unhcalth}^  places  in  the  county,  it  became  the 
prettiest,  pleasantest,  and  most  salubrious  village  in  that  part 
of  England . 

An  anecdote  will  serve  to  show  how  heartily  his  wife  entered 
mto  his  plans.  At  the  close  of  a  year,  when  ho  had  made  u^d 
his  acccuuts,  he  found  that  ho  had  a  balance  on  hand ;  and,  as 


'68  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

he  luadc  it  a  rule  to  spend  all  his  income,  he  proposed  to  his 
wife  that  thej  should  employ  this  sum  in  visiting  London. 
"  "What  a  pretty  cottage  it  would  build  ! "  said  she ;  and  a 
cottage  was  built  with  it,  accordingly. 

Besides  providing  his  tenants  with  decent  habitations,  he 
endeavored  to  teach  them  how  to  live  in  them.  Schools  were 
established  by  him  for  the  children,  and  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
visiting  his  tenants  in  their  cottages,  conversing  with  them 
upon  their  work,  their  gardens,  their  children,  and  pointing  out 
the  best  modes  of  culture  and  the  proper  mode  of  rearing  chil- 
dren. As  he  had  taken  some  pains  to  inform  himself  respecting 
diseases  and  their  causes,  he  was  frequently  able  to  give  them 
good  advice  respecting  their  complaints,  and  thus  saved  them 
the  expense  of  a  doctor.  In  times  of  scarcity,  he  exerted  him- 
self to  procure  employment  for  those  who  needed  it,  getting 
situations  among  his  friends  for  deserving  girls  and  young  men, 
keeping  many  hands  busy  upon  his  ovv^n  grounds,  and  in  weav- 
ing linen  for  his  family.  It  is  said  that  he  had  linen  enough  in 
his  house  when  he  died  to  last  fifty  years  longer.  He  was 
reluctant  to  give  money  in  charity,  except  to  persons  who  could 
not  work.  His  w\ay  was  to  provide  work,  even  if  the  work 
was  not  needed.  This  principle,  however,  did  not  prevent  his 
giving  presents  on  proper  occasions  to  deserving  objects.  All 
his  servants  were  generously  remembered  by  him  at  Christmas 
and  on  their  birthdays ;  and,  when  one  of  their  daughters  was 
married,  he  was  fond  of  presenting  the  bride  with  a  good  cow. 
The  old  women  of  his  parish  had  many  a  chaldron  of  coal  from 
him  in  the  winter,  and  he  was  a  great  tosser  of  pennies  to  boys 
whom  he  met  on  the  road,  of  whom  he  had  heard  good  accounts 
from  the  school-mistress.  As  one  of  his  neighbors  truly 
remarked  of  him,  "It  was  his  meat  and  drink  to  do  good." 

Benevolence  of  this  kind  was  well  adapted  to  England, 
though  it  would  be  out  of  place  in  America.  Here,  we  expect 
and  desire  every  man  to  take  care  of  himself  and  his  family, 
because  every  virtuous  man,  who  has  good  health,  can  earn  the 
means  of  doing  so.  "We  should  not  like  to  see  a  rich  landlord 
setting  up  to  be  the  father  of  his  village,  poking  his  nose  into 
people's  houses  and  affairs,  dictating  on  what  terms  their  chil- 


JOHN    HOWARD.  39 

then  should  be  cducatcci,  and  letting  tlicni  tlieir  lionscs  oii  con- 
dition of  tlieir  going  to  church  every  Sunday.  IJut  in  England, 
where  one  man  in  a  parish  may  have  ten  thou;^and  pounds  a 
year,  and  nine-tenths  of  his  neighbors  only  ten  shillings  a 
week ;  Avhere  one  man  has  had  every  possible  chance  to  im- 
prove himself,  and  nearly  all  the  rest  have  had  no  chance  at 
all;  where  one  man  lives  in  a  spacious  and  elegant  abode,  filled 
"vvith  everything  which  can  minister  to  his  comfort  and  pleasure, 
and  most  of  his  neighbors  pass  their  lives  in  little,  crowded 
huts,  composed  of  a  single  room;  in  those  circumstances,  no 
power  can  raise  the  people  in  the  scale  of  civilization  but  the 
benevolence  of  that  one  man.  Howard's  conduct  to  his  poor 
neighbors  and  fellow-citizens  was  entirely  admirable  —  ill- 
suited  as  it  would  be  in  a  land  where  the  conditions  of  men  are 
more  equal. 

While  thus  contributing  to  the  enjoyment  of  others,  he  did 
not  neglect  to  enjoy  life  himself.  He  was  a  thorough  country 
gentleman.  His  grounds  and  gardens  were  unfailing  sources 
of  pleasure  to  him.  Some  of  the  walks  which  he  laid  out,  and 
some  of  the  trees  which  he  planted,  are  still  to  be  seen  at  Card- 
ington,  as  well  as  a  curious  garden-house  made  entirely  of 
roots,  in  which  his  much-loved  thermometer  hung,  and  where 
he  recorded  his  observations  of  the  weather.  He  sent  a  paper, 
occasionally,  upon  the  w^eather  and  the  temperature,  to  the 
Iwoyal  Society  of  London,  which  led  to  his  being  elected  a 
member  of  that  institution.  Dr.  Franklin  was  a  member  at  the 
same  time ;  and,  as  Howard  was  intimately  acquainted  with 
several  of  Franklin's  friends,  it  is  highly  probable  that  the 
English  and  the  American  philanthropists  knew  one  another.  It 
may  be,  however,  that  the  difference  of  their  religious  opinions 
kept  them  apart,  —  Franklin  being  a  deist,  and  Howard  a  very 
decided  and  most  ardent  trinitarian.  On  one  point  Howard 
agreed  with  Dr.  Franklin :  he  was  the  friend  of  America 
during  the  whole  of  our  revolutionary  period.  So  opposed  w^as 
he  to  the  tyrannical  measures  of  Lord  jN"orth,  that,  later  in  life, 
when  he  could  have  been  a  member  of  parliament  by  holding 
his  tongue  on  that  sul)ject,  he  boldly  avowed  his  oppositior, 
and  lost  his  seat. 


4:0  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

For  seven  years  he  lived  in  the  country  with  his  wife. 
Nothing  was  wanting  to  his  happiness  but  children,  which,  for 
seven  years,  were  denied  him.  Then  a  son  was  born,  who  filled 
up  the  measure  of  his  jo}^  A  few  days  after  the  birth  of  this 
child,  he  left  his  wife  in  the  morning  to  go  to  church,  she  being 
apparently  as  well  as  could  be  expected.  On  his  return,  he 
found  her  indisposed,  and  a  few  minutes  after,  as  he  was  hand- 
ing her  a  cup  of  chocolate,  she  fell  back  upon  her  pillow  and 
immediately  breathed  her  last.  It  was  a  fearful  blow  to  a  man 
so  affectionate  and  so  domestic  in  his  habits  as  John  Howard, 
and  it  cast  over  his  mind  a  shadow  which  was  never  quite  dissi- 
pated while  he  lived.  The  boy,  whom  he  had  obtained  at  the 
price  of  his  happiness,  was  a  large  and  healthy  child ;  it  lived 
to  be  the  consoler  of  his  solitude,  but  finally  the  shame  and 
misery  of  his  old  age. 

For  the  relief  of  his  mind,  he  made  another  extensive  tour 
upon  the  Continent,  and  visited  various  parts  of  his  own 
country ;  residing  only  occasionally  at  his  home,  but  always 
attentive  to  the  welfire  of  his  tenants,  whether  present  or 
absent.  On  one  of  his  tours  he  had  a  severe  fit  of  the  gout, 
which  led  him  to  resolve  that,  if  ever  he  recovered,  he  would 
never  again  drink  wine  or  spirits.  He  kept  his  resolution, 
though  he  continued  to  provide  wine  for  his  guests.  Soon 
after,  his  health  being  still  impaired,  he  tried  the  experiment 
of  living  without  meat;  and,  as  a  vegetable  diet  seemed  to 
benefit  him,  he  never  again  partook  of  animal  food.  All  this 
was  highly  serviceable  to  him  in  his  philanthropic  travels,  when 
he  Avas  often  bej^ond  the  reach  of  any  supplies  except  the  most 
simple.  He  could  live,  and  often  did  live,  for  weeks  at  a  time, 
upon  biscuit,  raisins,  and  tea.  Tea,  in  fact,  was  his  onl} 
luxury.  He  always  travelled  with  a  supply  of  the  best  tea, 
and  a  portable  apparatus  for  preparing  it.  On  arriving  at  a 
town,  he  would  sit  in  his  carriage  and  dine  upon  tea  and 
biscuit,  but  send  his  servant  to  the  inn  to  get  a  good  dinner. 
He  could  bid  defiance  to  all  inn-keepers,  as  he  was  totally  inde- 
pendent of  them  for  his  comfort,  and  he  could  sleep  as  well  in 
his  carriasre  as  in  a  bed. 

Such  a  man  w^as  John  Howard,  and  so  passed  his  life  till  ho 


JOHN    nOWAKD.  41 

was  forty-six  years  of  age ;  wlien  an  event  occurred  Avhicli 
called  his  attention  again  to  the  condition  and  treatment  of  a 
class  of  his  fellow-beings,  whose  suflcrings  were  uiipitied  be- 
cause they  were  unknown,  —  the  unprotected  prey  of  savage 
men,  savage  laws,  and  that  fell  tyrant  of  England,  ancient  cus- 
tom. 

In  the  3'ear  1773  John  Howard  was  appointed  high  sheriff 
of  the  county  of  Bedfordshire,  in  which  he  resided.  In  Eng- 
land the  sheriffs  are  appointed  by  the  king,  and  he  usually  se- 
lects one  of  the  leading  gentlemen  or  noblemen  of  the  county, 
who  holds  the  office  one  year.  The  disagreeable  duties  of  the 
place  are  performed  by  under  sheriffs.  Twice  a  3'ear  the  high 
sheriff,  clad  in  the  showy  robes  of  his  office,  rode  out  of  town  in 
his  carriage,  and  escorted  to  the  town  hall,  amid  the  pealing  of 
bells,  the  judges  who  came  to  hold  the  semi-annual  court ;  and 
in  the  evening  he  gave  a  ball,  which  was  attended  by  the  judges, 
the  lawyers,  and  the  principal  families  of  the  county.  He  also 
occasionally  entertained  at  dinner  the  gentlemen  of  the  neigh- 
borhood ;  and  these  were  all  the  duties  Avhich  custom  and  public 
opinion  demanded  of  the  high  sheriff.  As  he  received  no  sal- 
ary, and  the  office  involved  considerable  expense,  it  was  never 
bestowed  except  upon  a  man  of  wealth. 

John  Howard  was  not  a  man  to  tread  without  questioning  in 
the  footsteps  of  a  predecessor ;  nor  was  he  a  person  likely  to 
think  that  a  duty  which  the  law  imposes  on  one  man  can  be  prop- 
erly performed  by  another  man.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  he  had 
received  his  appointment,  he  took  the  extraordinary  course  of 
looking  into  the  law  to  ascertain  what  the  duties  were  which 
appertain  to  it.  He  found  that  the  county  jail  was  under  his 
jurisdiction,  and  that  he  was  bound  to  see  that  the  jailers  did 
their  duty,  and  that  the  prisoners  were  properly  dealt  with. 
Accordingly,  instead  of  sending  a  deputy  to  attend  to  this  duty, 
he  went  himself  to  the  prison,  gave  every  part  and  department 
of  it  a  thorough  inspection,  and  inquired  into  the  condition  of 
each  prisoner.  He  found  many  things  there  that  distressed  him  ; 
but  there  was  one  abuse  which  so  deeply  offended  his  sense  of 
justice,  that  he  at  once  set  about  reforming  it. 

At  that  day,  a  jailer  had  no  salary,  but  was  supported  chiefly 


42  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

by  fees  extorted  from  the  prisoners  on  their  leaving  jail.     Cus- 
tom had  established,  with  the  force  of  law,  that  every  prisoner, 
whether  felon  or  debtor,  whether  discharged  because  the  jury 
had  acquitted  him,  or  because  no  bill  of  indictment  was  found 
against  him,  or  because  his  term  of  imprisonment  had  expired, 
should  pay,  before  leaving  the  jail,  a  fee  of  fifteen  shillings  and 
four  pence  to  the  jailer,  and  another  fee  of  two  shillings  to  the 
turnliey,  —  about  five  dollars  in  all.  '  If  a  prisoner  could  not 
raise  this  sum,  the  jailer  was  allowed  to  keep  him  in  prison  till 
he  could.     The  reader  may  judge  of  the  feelings  of  a  Howard 
when  he  discovered  that  some  men  had  been  confined  many 
weeks,  some  many  mouths,  and  one  man  four  years,  solely  be- 
cause they  were  unable  to  pay  the  fees  for  their  delivery.     He 
found  that  some  prisoners  who  had  been  proved  innocent,  and 
others  against  whom  no  bill  had  been  found,  still  languished  in 
a  loathsome  dungeon,  because  there  was  no   one  on  earth  able 
and  willins:  to  lend  them  the  triflinsf  sum  of  nineteen  shillinsfs 
and  four  pence,  while  the  county  was  at  the  expense  of  support- 
ing them.     Such  frightful  abuses  as  this  come  of  great  men  put- 
ting off  their  duties  upon  deputies.     These  fees  had  been  exacted 
so  long,  that  no  one  could  give  any  account  of  the  origin  of  the 
system,  or  knew  why  such  an  odd  sum  as  fifteen  shillings  and 
four  pence  had  been  fixed  upon ;  yet  John  Howard  was  the  first 
high  sheriff  to  direct  attention  to  its  inhumanity  and  absurdity. 
Howard  promptly  called  the  attention  of  the  judges  to  the  sub- 
ject, and  they  appeared  as  much  shocked  at  his  recital  as  he  had 
been  at  the  discovery.     He  proposed,  as  a  remedy,  that  the  fees 
then  due  should  be  paid  by  the  county  ;  that  the  old  system  should 
at  once  be  abolished ;  and  that  the  jailer  should  be  supported  in 
future  by  a  salary.     They  w^ere  disposed  to  adopt  his  plans ; 
"  but,"  said  they,  with  the  true  British  reverence  for  old  cus- 
toms, "  is  there  any  precedent  for  paying  a  jailer  a  salary  and 
charging  it  to  a  county?"     Howard  could  not  answer  this  ques- 
tion, but  said  that  he  would  immediately  visit  some  of  the  ad- 
jacent counties,  and  see  what  customs  prevailed  with  regard  to 
the  discharge  of  prisoners  and  the  payment  of  jailers.     He  did 
so,  and  found  everywhere  the  same  system,  and  at  every  jail 


JOHN    IIOWAKD.  43 

poor  prisoners  detained  for  the  luck  of  the  nineteen  sliillln^s 
and  four  pence. 

That  short  excursion  in  search  of  a  precedent  revealed  to  his 
benevolent  mind  such  enormous  and  dreadful  defects  in  the 
prison  system  of  England,  that  he,  soon  after,  set  out  upon  a 
more  extensive  journey,  determined  to  inform  himself  thorough- 
ly upon  the  subject,  and  let  the  light  of  publicity  into  the  hide- 
ous dungeons  where  innocent  and  guilty,  the  unfortunate  debtor 
and  the  atrocious  criminal,  youthful  oflenders  and  men  grown 
old  in  iniquity,  festered  and  rotted  together. 

A  county  prison,  he  found,  usually  consisted  of  three  princi- 
pal rooms.     One  of  them,  called  the  day-room,   resembled,  in 
general  appearance  and  furniture,  the  tap-room  of  a  low,  village 
ale-house,  except  that  it  was  ill-lighted  and  worse  ventilated, 
and  exceedingly  unclean.     In  this  apartment  all  the  inmates  of 
the  prison,  men  and  women,  debtors  and  felons,  passed  the  day. 
As  the  jailer  had  the  privilege  of  selling  beer  and  liquors  to  the 
prisoners,  they  were  supplied  w^ith  just  as  much  drink  as  they 
could  pay  for;  and,  consequently,  this  day-room  often  presented 
a  scene  of  riotous  debauchery.     Every  new  comer  had  to  treat 
the  whole  company;  and  all  fines,  bets,  and  penalties  were  dis- 
charged by  pots  of  ale  and  bowls  of  punch.     As  no  employ- 
ment was  provided  for  the  prisoners,  nor  any  books,  most  of 
them  spent  the  day,  and  every  day,  in  playing  cards  and  in 
drinking  the  beer  and  brandy  which  were  the  invariable  stakes. 
The  presence  of  women  was  frequently  the  occasion  of  excesses 
still  more  abominable.     In  this  school  of  depravity,  maintained 
at  the  expense  of  the  virtuous  portion  of  the  community,  youth- 
ful offenders,  whom  judicious  treatment  could  easily  have  res- 
cued, were  rendered  in  a  few  weeks  adepts  in  all  the  arts  by 
which  crime  preys  upon  virtue.     There,  murderers  recounted 
tales  •  of  butchery ,   highway  robbers  vaunted  their  exploits  on 
the  road,  house-breakers  unfolded  their  secrets  and  magnified 
their  gains.     There,  young  women,  imprisoned  on  suspicion  of 
a  trifiing  theft,  were  thrown  among  the  most  abandoned  of  their 
own  sex,  and  the  most  brutal  of  ours.     There,  the  honest  debtor, 
the  respectable  father  of  a  virtuous  family,  bankrupt  through 


44  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  clelinqiiency  of  others  or  by  sudden  calamity,  was  compellal 
to  live  in  the  closest  contact  Tvith  the  vilest  of  his  species. 

At  night,  the  men  and  women  were  generally  (but  not  in  all 
prisons)  separated.  The  two  night-rooms,  one  for  men  and 
the  other  for  women,  were,  in  almost  every  prison  in  England, 
under  oTound.  Howard  went  into  one  of  these  dunsfeons  that 
was  twenty-four  steps  below  the  surface,  and  another  that  was 
thirty-seven ;  but  they  were  usually  ten  or  twelve  feet  under 
ground,  with  two  small  windows  about  two  feet  square.  The 
floor  was  littered  with  what  had  once  been  straw,  but  which  was 
soon  ground  into  powder  when  the  dungeon  was  dry,  and  into 
paste  when  it  was  damp.  Damp  it  usually  was,  and  chilly,  and 
foul,  and  stinking,  to  a  degree  that  only  the  heroic  benevolence 
of  a  Howard  could  have  borne  to  remain  in  it  voluntarily.  On 
this  pulverized  and  rotten  straw,  teeming  with  vermin  and  sur- 
charged with  poisonous  odors,  the  walls  and  ceiling  exuding  filth, 
the  prisoners  slept,  covered,  in  winter,  with  a  damp  and  filthy 
rug.  The  jail-fever,  of  course,  raged  in  all  such  prisons,  and  often 
spread  into  the  towns.  It  was  not  uncommon  for  judges,  law- 
yers, and  jurj^nen  to  catch  that  malignant  disease  from  the  pris- 
oners whom  thev  tried  ;  the  bar  and  the  bench  of  Eii2fland,  in 
the  last  century,  lost  some  of  their  brightest  ornaments  from  this 
most  deadly  of  fevers.  Such  was  its  peculiar  virulence  that 
the  surgeons  of  some  of  the  jails  were  exempted,  by  the  terms 
of  their  contract,  from  attending  any  prisoner  who  had  it. 

There  was  another  shocking  abuse  which  Howard  found  to  be 
very  general.  Many  of  the  prisons  being  ancient, — parts 
of  old  castles  or  the  wing  of  a  convent,  —  they  were  very  inse- 
cure ;  and  as  the  jailer  w^as  responsible  for  the  safe  keeping  of 
the  prisoners,  he  resorted  to  the  easiest  means  of  securing  them 
that  he  was  acquainted  with.  Accordingly,  Howard  found  in 
some  prisons  all  the  inmates  chained.  Sometimes  they  were 
only  handcuffed,  or  had  their  ankles  chained  together ;  but  in 
a  few  of  the  oldest  prisons  the  poor  wretches  were  chained  to 
a  wall  in  the  daytime,  and  to  the  floor  at  night.  Few  things, 
in  the  course  of  his  first  tour,  so  sorely  afllicted  the  benevolent 
heart  of  John  Howard,  still  bleeding  from  the  loss  of  his  wife, 
as  to  see  women  dragging  about  heavy  and  clanking  fetters,  or 


JOUN    HOWARD.  45 

chained  to  a  Uiick  iron  ring  in  the  floor.  Anotlicr  thing  pain- 
fully oflcnded  his  sense  of  delicacy  ;  in  many  prisons  there 
was  but  one  yard,  which  was  common  to  the  male  and  female 
inmates. 

The  food  of  the  prisoners  he  found  to  be  generally  insufficient. 
The  jailers  usually  fed  them  by  contract ;  so  that  the  less  the 
prisoners  ate,  the  more  the  jailer  gained. 

In  almost  every  jail  that  he  visited,  he  found  men  detained  be- 
yond their  term  because  they  could  not  pay  the  fees  of  the  jailer 
and  turnkey.  In  one  prison  there  were  two  sailors,  whose  oflcnce 
had  been  so  slight  that  the  magistrate  had  sentenced  them  to  pay 
a  fine  of  one  shilling  each.  They  had  paid  the  fine,  but  could 
not  raise  the  money  for  the  fees,  and  they  remained  in  one  of 
these  pestilential  dungeons  until  Howard  visited  it,  when  he  paid 
their  fees,  and  restored  them  to  liberty. 

Here  and  there  he  found  a  prison  where  some  attention  was 
paid  to  cleanliness  and  decency,  where  the  rooms  were  not  abso- 
lutely unfit  for  the  residence  of  human  beings,  and  where  the 
inmates  were  not  the  prey  of  the  jailer.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  occasionally  discovered  one  where  all  the  usual  abuses  were 
aggravated.  One  prison  consisted  of  a  single  room,  or  passage, 
twenty-seven  feet  long  and  seven  feet  wide,  lighted  by  one  win- 
dow. In  another,  where  the  men  and  women  were  not  sep- 
arated, night  or  day,  as  many  as  seven  births  had  taken  place  in 

a  year. 

From  1773  to  1776  Howard's  chief  employment  was  to  pur- 
sue his  investigations  into  the  condition  of  the  prisons  of  Great 
Britain.  In  the  course  of  those  three  years  he  personally,  and 
most  thoroughly,  inspected  every  prison  in  the  three  kingdoms 
that  offered  any  peculiaritj^  He  travelled  ten  thousand  miles 
at  his  own  expense,  and  delivered  from  prison  a  large  number 
of  poor  debtors  by  paying  their  debts,  and  many  pett}'  criminals 
by  paying  their  fees.  Wherever  he  went  he  brought  some  alle- 
viation to  the  lot  of  the  prisoners  by  gifts  of  money,  bread,  meat, 
or  tea,  and  by  remonstrating  with  jailers,  surgeons,  chaplains, 
and  magistrates.  Several  prisons  underwent  a  complete  renova- 
tion and  reformation  solely  in  consequence  of  his  conversationa 
with  county  magistrates  and  circuit  judges. 


46  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

In  the  second  year  of  his  inquiries,  his  efforts  had  become  so 
far  known  that  he  was  summoned  before  a  committee  of  the 
House  of  Commons  to  give  information  as  to  the  results  of  his 
investisfations.  The  members  of  the  committee,  amazed  at  such 
sublime  devotion  to  a  calling  so  painful  and  repulsive,  and 
charmed  with  the  fitness,  exactness,  and  modesty  of  his  replies, 
caused  him  to  be  summoned  to  the  bar  to  receive  the  thanks  of 
the  house  for  his  "humanity  and  zeal."  He  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons. Amid  the  cheers  of  members  he  modestly  advanced  to 
the  bar,  w^here  he  stood  with  bowled  head,  while  the  Speaker 
communicated  to  him  the  thanks  of  his  countrymen.  There 
was  never  a  man  more  truly  modest  than  John  Howard,  but  at 
this  unusual  and  noble  recognition  of  his  labors,  his  heart  was 
touched,  and  his  purpose  strengthened.  When,  after  other  years 
of  heroic  labors  in  the  same  cause,  he  published  the  results  of 
his  inquiries,  he  dedicated  the  volume  to  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and  thanked  them  in  his  turn  for  the  encouragement  they 
had  afforded  him. 

It  has  been  the  lot  of  many  philanthropists  to  encounter 
obloquy  and  opposition  in  their  efforts  to  benefit  mankind.  It 
was  Howard's  happier  fortune  to  enjoy,  at  all  times,  the  ap- 
proval of  his  countrymen,  and  to  receive  needful  aid  from  per- 
sons in  authority.  He  was  so  devoid  of  all  pretence,  and  went 
about  his  work  in  such  a  quiet,  earnest  manner,  and  gave  such 
unquestionable  proofs  of  the  benevolence  of  his  motives,  that 
the  enmity  of  men  whose  evil  practices  he  exposed  was  dis- 
armed, and  all  others  observed  his  proceedings  with  admiration. 
His  rank,  too,  as  a  gentleman  of  independent  property,  greatly 
facilitated  his  labors,  and  when  he  had  publicly  received  the 
thanks  of  the  House  of  Commons,  he  had  a  kind  of  official 
character,  which  opened  to  him  the  doors  of  every  jail  the 
moment  he  presented  himself.  He  pursued  his  investigations 
in  a  very  business-like  manner,  carrying  w^ith  him  a  rule  with 
which  to  measure  the  dungeons,  a  pair  of  scales  for  weighing 
the  allowance  of  food,  and  a  memorandum  book  in  which  to 
record  his  facts. 

I  have  before  remarked,  that  almost  every  man  in  England 
whose  memory  England  now  cherishes  wdth  pride,  sided  with 


JOHN    HOWARD.  47 

America  during  the  revolutionary  war;  just  as  nearly  every 
man  "svliom  England  Avill  honor  a  century  hence,  sympathized 
with  the  United  States  during  the  late  contest.  Howard  had 
many  friends  in  the  circle  of  distinguished  men  who  surrounded 
Dr.  Franklin  in  London,  and  opposed,  as  they  did,  the  hostile 
measures  of  the  king.  In  1774,  the  liberal  party  in  Bedford- 
shire nominated  him  for  parliament,  and,  after  a  most  severe 
contest,  he  was  elected  by  a  small  majority.  The  "  issue "  in 
this  election  was,  whether  the  king  and  Lord  North  should  be 
sustained  in  their  American  policy ;  and  the  election  of  Howard 
was,  therefore,  a  defeat  for  the  administration.  The  ministry, 
however,  succeeded  in  finding  a  pretext  for  annulling  the  elec- 
tion. Some  of  Howard's  votes  were  declared  illegal,  —  enough 
to  give  the  seat  to  a  tory.  The  loss  of  a  seat  in  parliament  was 
not  much  regretted  by  him  for  his  own  sake,  but  he  felt  acutely 
the  wrong  clone  to  the  great  and  patriotic  party  which  had 
elected  him. 

"I  was  a  victim  of  the  ministry,"  he  wrote,  after  learning  the 
result  of  the  struggle.  "Most  surely  I  should  not  have  fallen 
in  with  all  their  severe  measures  relative  to  the  Americans,  and 
my  constant  declaration  that  not  one  emolument  of  live  shillings, 
were  I  in  parliament,  would  I  ever  accept  of,  marked  me  out  as 
an  object  of  their  aversion.  I  sensibly  feel  for  an  injured  people  ; 
their  affection  and  esteem  I  shall  ever  reflect  on  with  pleasure 
and  gratitude.     As  to  myself,  I  calmly  retire." 

The  allusion  here  to  the  "emolument"  of  members  of  parlia- 
ment requires  a  word  of  explanation.  At  that  day,  it  was  so 
common  for  the  ministry  to  carry  leading  measures  b}'  bribery, 
that  a  member  who  refused  to  accept  anything  from  an  admin- 
istration, was  set  down,  as  a  matter  of  course,  in  the  ranks  of 
the  opposition.  I  have  read  letters  from  members  of  parliament 
to  a  prime  minister,  humbly  apoJoghing  for  not  accepting  a 
proffered  bribe,  and  I  have  elsewhere  (see  Parton's  Life  of 
Franklin)  shown  that  the  steady  majority  which  enabled  Lord 
North  to  provoke  America  to  resistance,  was  bought  and  paid 
for.  That  minister  had  always  about  one  hundred  and  thirty 
members  of  parliament  in  his  pay,  who  received  from  five  hun- 
dred to  one  thousand  pounds  per  session ;  and  the  rest  of  his 


18  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

majority  was  secured  by  the  gift  of  office,  commissions,  con- 
tracts, and  church  livings,  to  the  sons  and  friends  of  members. 

Fortunate  was  it  for  the  poor  prisoners  of  Europe  that  John 
Howard  was  cheated  of  his  seat  in  parUament.  In  the  spring 
of  1775,  when  he  was  about  to  begin  the  preparation  of  his 
prison  notes  for  the  press,  it  occurred  to  him  that  an  inspection 
of  some  of  the  prisons  of  France,  Germany,  and  Holland  might 
furnish  some  facts  useful  to  his  purpose.  In  April,  therefore, 
while  some  of  his  countrymen  were  running  away  from  the 
battle  of  Lexington,  he  crossed  to  Paris,  and  stood  before  the 
frowning  towers  of  the  Bastile,  seeking  admission  to  its  gloomy 
dungeons.  That  ancient  fortress  was  surrounded  by  a  wide 
ditch,  which  was  crossed  by  a  drawbridge,  and  this  ditch  was 
girdled  by  a  thick  and  lofty  wall.  Unprovided  with  an  order 
or  pass,  Howard  knocked  vigorously  at  the  outer  gate,  which 
was  open,  and  then  walked  in,  past  the  guard,  and,  advancing 
to  the  drawbridge,  stood  there  contemplating  the  gloomy  edi- 
fice. Very  soon,  an  officer  presented  himself,  who  appeared  to 
be  astonished  beyond  measure  at  his  audacity,  and  ordered  him 
back.  He  retreated,  and  passed  by  the  silent  guard  again  to 
the  outer  world,  —  "the  only  person,"  as  one  of  his  friends  re- 
marked, "who,  in  four  centuries,  had  ever  left  the  Bastile 
reluctantly." 

After  attempting  in  vain  to  gain  admission  to  other  prisons 
in  Paris,  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  discover  an  ancient  ro3^al 
decree,  which  directed  jailers  to  admit  to  prisons  under  their 
charge  all  persons  desirous  of  giving  alms  to  prisoners,  and  to 
permit  them  to  give  their  alms  into  the  prisoners'  own  hands. 
Armed  with  this  decree,  he  obtained  access  to  all  the  prisons  of 
Paris,  excepting  only  the  impenetrable  Bastile.  He  found  that, 
upon  the  whole,  the  prison  system  of  France  was  better  than 
that  of  England ;  the  prisons  were  cleaner,  the  food  was  better, 
the  rules  more  just  and  humane.  But,  in  some  of  the  large 
prisons  of  Paris,  he  discovered  under-ground  dungeons  of  the 
most  revolting  description, — "totally  dark,"  he  observes,  "and 
beyond  imagination  horrid  and  dreadful."  In  one  prison,  there 
were  eight  cells,  sixteen  steps  below  the  surface  of  the  earth,  in 
size  thirteen  feet  by  nine,  without  window  or  lamp,  and  venti- 


JOHN   HOWARD.  49 

latcd  only  by  a  funnel.  Into  these  damp,  cold,  and  noisome 
cells,  not  a  ray  of  light  ever  penetrated,  and  "in  theai,''  says 
Howard,  '^poor  creatures  Averc  confined,  day  and  night,  for 
weeks,  for  months  together."  After  only  a  few  days'  coniine- 
ment  in  one  of  them,  a  man  would  come  out  yellow,  emaciated, 
and  almost  out  of  his  senses.  Howard  was  never  content 
merely  to  ascertain  the  existence  of  such  dungeons ;  he  went 
down  into  them  himself,  remained  in  them  an  hour  or  more, 
conversed  with  their  wretched  inmates,  and  employed  his  rule, 
his  scales,  and  his  thermometer,  to  render  his  description  exact. 

Leaving  France,  he  traversed  the  Low  Countries,  visiting 
prisons  and  hospitals.  At  Ghent,  then  nnder  the  dominion  of 
Austria,  he  found,  to  his  equal  surprise  and  delight,  a  prison 
free  from  all  the  abuses  he  had  elsewhere  observed,  and  abound- 
ing in  excellent  features  of  which  he  had  never  heard. 
Every  inmate  had  a  separate  room  which  was  perfectly  clean ; 
a  decent  bed,  with  mattress,  blankets,  and  sheets ;  an  abundance 
of  water,  which  he  was  compelled  to  use  in  the  purification  of 
his  person  and  his  cell.  But  the  crowning  merit  of  this  institu- 
tion was  that  every  prisoner  was  kept  at  work.  Large  work- 
rooms were  filled  with  silent  laborers,  who  were  thus  enabled  to 
earn  a  considerable  part  of  the  expense  of  their  maintenance, 
and,  by  working  over-time,  to  accumulate  a  little  sum  with 
which  to  start  afresh  in  the  world  at  the  expiration  of  their  term. 

It  may  be  truly  said  that  How^ard's  visit  to  this  prison  was 
the  means  of  changing  the  prison  system  of  the  world.  Here 
he  saw  a  practical  demonstration  of  the  truth  of  his  own  the- 
ory that  a  prison  should  be  a  place  of  punishment,  but  not  a 
scene  of  torture ;  a  means  of  reforming  criminals,  not  of  con- 
firming them  in  criminal  habits.  The  records  of  this  admirable 
prison  showed  that  the  eficcts  of  its  discipline  'were  generally 
salutary,  and,  in  very  many  cases,  resulted  in  restoring  its  sub- 
jects to  virtue.  Fortified  by  such  an  example,  he  felt  that  he 
could  now  return  to  his  native  land,  and  not  confine  himself  to 
an  exposure  of  the  demoralizing  cruelties  of  its  prisons,  but 
point  out  a  remedy  which  time  and  experience  had  tried. 

In  all  the  prisons  of  the  Continent  he  found  one  horror  which 
was  unknown  in  England,  —  a  torture  chamber.     It  was  a  cus- 

4 


50  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

torn  then,  in  all  the  countries  of  Europe,  except  Prussia,  to 
subject  criminals  to  the  torture,  in  order  to  compel  them  to  con- 
fess their  crimes  and  reveal  their  accomplices.  This  chamber 
was  usually  under  ground,  that  the  cries  of  the  sufferer  might 
not  be  heard.  Clad  only  in  a  long  flannel  gown,  the  trembling 
victim  was  led  to  this  apartment,  where  were  assembled  the 
magistrates,  the  executioners,  a  surgeon,  and  a  secretary;  and 
there  he  was  tortured  till  his  agony  had  wrung  from  him  a  con- 
fession, real  or  fictitious.  Sometimes  it  was  the  thumb-screw, 
sometimes  the  boot,  sometimes  a  chair  with  blunt  spikes  in  the 
seat,  sometimes  it  was  a  machine  for  dislocating  the  arms,  some- 
times it  was  the  lash  or  the  shower-bath,  that  tried  the  endur- 
ance of  the  accused.  These  chambers  of  torture  Howard 
visited,  but  he  purposely  forebore  to  lend  a  false  attraction  to 
his  book  by  describing  them.  It  was  not  till  1780  that  the  tor- 
ture was  abolished  in  France.  The  man  most  instrumental  in 
effecting  this  reform  was  Voltaire,  who  for  forty  years  never  lost 
an  opportunity  of  aiming  at  it  a  shaft  of  ridicule  or  of  argument. 
It  was  Yoltaire,  also,  whose  writings  induced  Frederick  the 
Great  to  abolish  the  torture  in  Prussia. 

Returning  home  after  an  extensive  tour  on  the  Continent,  he 
determined  to  visit  again  the  prisons  of  England,  before  sitting 
down  to  give  the  public  the  benefit  of  his  investigations.  That 
done,  he  made  a  sec'ond  continental  tour,  and  then  proceeded  to 
the  preparation  of  his  book.  Aware  of  the  defects  of  his  edu- 
cation, he  availed  himself  of  tlie  aid  of  competent  literary  men, 
though  lie  scrutinized  most  carefully  the  progress  of  the  work, 
and  read  the  proofs  with  extraordinary  attention.  The  motto 
selected  for  the  book,  from  the  poet  Thomson,  was  very 
appropriate ;  — 

"  Ah !  little  think  the  gay, 
Whom  pleasure,  power,  and  affluence  surround, 
How  many  pine  in  want  and  dungeon  glooms, 

Shut  from  the  common  air." 

The  title  of  the  work  was,  "The  State  of  the  Prisons  in  En<r- 
land  and  AValcs,  with  Preliminary  Observations,  and  an  Account 
of  some  Foreign  Prisons  ;  by  John  Howard,  F.  R.  S."  It  was 
a  weighty  quarto,  of  520  pages,  illustrated   by  four  large  and 


JOHN    HOWARD.  51 

expensive  plates.  Having  defrayed  the  Avbolc  expense  of  this 
extensive  and  very  costly  work,  he  presented  a  copy  of  it  to 
every  pnblic  man  in  England  of  any  note  or  general  influence, 
and  placed  the  rest  of  the  edition  in  the  bookstores,  to  be  sold 
at  about  half  the  cost  of  producing  them. 

Having  thus,  as  he  supposed,  completed  his  la])ors  on  behalf 
of  prisoners,  in  which  he  had  spent  live  years,  ho  retired  again 
to  his  seat  in  Bedfordshire,  to  enjoy  a  little  repose,  leaving  his 
work  to  make  its  way  with  the  public,  and  to  produce  such 
results  as  it  miiiht. 

Howard  was  about  fifty-one  years  of  age  when  he  went  home 
to  his  favorite  seat  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  country,  and 
the  society  of  his  l)oy,  then  a  promising  lad  of  ten. 

He  was  exceedingly  fond  of  his  son,  though  he  governed  him, 
as  some  of  his  friends  thought,  a  little  too  much  in  the  patri- 
archal st^'le,  demanding  from  him  the  most  prompt  and  exact 
obedience,  and  avoiding,  on  principle,  to  give  him  any  explana- 
tion of  the  reasons  of  his  requirements.  He  never  struck  the 
boy  a  blow  in  his  life.  The  severest  punishment  he  ever  in- 
flicted was  compelling  him  to  sit  still  for  a  certain  time  without 
speaking,  and  such  was  his  ascendency  over  the  child,  that  one 
of  his  neighbors  said  that  if  he  should  tell  the  boy  to  hold  his 
hand  in  the  fire,  he  would  do  it.  He  appears  to  have  carried 
the  patriarchal  principle  too  far.  The  boy  obeyed  his  fiither, 
but  did  not  confide  in  him ;  respected  his  father,  but  was  not 
very  fond  of  him ;  was  proud  of  his  father,  but  did  not  feel  at 
home  in  his  company.  Obedience  is  certainly  due  from  a  chiki 
to  its  parents,  and  ought  to  be  required ;  but  the  grand  point  is 
to  secure  the  child's  confidence  and  love,  so  that  it  will  natu- 
rall}^  impart  to  its  parents  its  secrets,  and  prefer  their  society 
to  that  of  any  other  persons  in  the  world.  During  Howard's 
absence  on  his  philanthropic  journeys,  the  boy  was  left  at  a 
boarding-school,  near  the  residence  of  his  aunt,  at  whose  house 
he  spent  his  holidays.  The  father,  however,  frequently  visited 
him,  and  watched  his  progress  with  exemplary  attention. 

Before  Howard  had  been  Ions:  at  home,  he  observed  with 
pleasure  that  his  labors  were  bearing  fruit.  Besides  a  general 
though  partial  reform  in  the  county  prisons,  parliament  det<?r' 


52       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

mined  to  build  a  model  prison  on  the  plan  of  the  one  in  Ghent, 
as  described  in  Howard's  book,  and  he  was  again  summoned 
before  the  House  of  Commons  to  give  further  information  on 
the  subject.  The  magazines  and  newspapers,  too,  in  reviewing 
his  work,  held  up  his  unique  and  self-denying  labors  to  the  ad- 
miration of  his  countrymen  ;  which  not  only  rendered  his  name 
illustrious,  but  opened  to  him  new  fields  of  exertion.  He  was 
now  so  identified  in  the  public  mind  with  prison  reform,  that 
if  any  abuse  in  a  jail  attracted  attention,  he  was  sure  to  be 
informed  of  it,  and  urged  to  look  into  it.  Besides  all  this,  his 
only  sister  died  during  this  interval  of  rest,  and  left  him  twelve 
thousand  pounds.  Now,  in  Europe,  if  a  man  inherits  an  estate 
from  his  father,  he  considers  himself  in  honor  bound  to  leave 
that  estate  to  his  son  in  at  least  as  good  a  condition  as  he  found 
it.  Having  received  this  large  addition  to  his  property,  How- 
ard w^as  freed  from  all  scruples  on  this  subject ;  and,  wdiile 
reserving  his  patrimony  intact  for  his  son,  set  apart  the  money 
received  from  his  sister's  estate  as  a  fund  for  contiuuinfir  his 
philanthropic  labors. 

Discovering  now  that  both  parliament  and  the  public  were 
intent  on  reforming  the  prisons  of  England,  he  determined  to 
set  out  on  a  more  extensive  tour  of  the  Continent,  to  £:ather 
new  information  respecting  the  working  of  the  excellent  prisons 
in  the  Low  Countries,  as  well  as  new  proofs  of  the  evil  effects 
of  the  old  system  of  dungeons  and  torture.  Before  leaving 
England,  he  was  led  to  visit  the  hulks  anchored  in  the  Thames, 
wherein  were  confined  lars^e  numbers  of  convicts  awaitins:  trans- 
portation.  He  told  members  of  the  government  what  he  saw 
there.  On  going  on  board  one  of  these  ships,  the  captain 
handed  him  a  piece  of  excellent  biscuit,  as  a  specimen  of  the 
food  which  he  gave  the  prisoners  ;  but  Howard  had  visited  too 
many  prisons  to  believe  one  syllable  of  anything  told  him  by 
the  keepers  thereof.  The  thing  that  he  believed  was,  the  hag- 
gard and  sallow  countenances  of  the  wretched  convicts,  as  they 
wearily  paced  the  deck,  half  naked,  unclean,  and  stinking. 
When  he  saw  men  looking  so,  when  he  smelt  that  peculiar  smell 
of  the  jail,  he  knew  that  something  was  wrong.  He  waited, 
accordingly,  till  mess-time,  and  applied  his  own  eyes,  nose,  and 


JOHN    HOWARD.  5-j 

scales  to  the  dinner  as  actually  served  out.  He  found  the  bis- 
cuit green,  mouldy,  and  maggoty,  the  meat  tainted,  tho  water 
impure.  Taking  from  his  pocket  the  biscuit  given  him  hy  tin; 
captain,  ho  held  it  up  before  the  convicts,  in  the  captain's 
presence,  and  reproached  him  with  the  fraud  he  was  practising 
upon  the  men,  rnd  the  falsehood  with  Avhich  he  had  endeavored 
to  conceal  it.  He  went  below,  where  he  found  larire  numbers 
of  sick  men  lying  on  the  floor,  with  not  so  much  as  straw  under 
them,  to  whom  were  given  only  the  loathsome  and  poisonous 
provisions  which  had  caused  their  sickness.  He  was  not  sur- 
prised to  learn  that  one-third  of  the  convicts  die  before  leaving 
the  country  to  begin  the  fulfilment  of  their  sentence ;  and  he 
told  the  irovernmcnt  that,  unless  the  system  were  chanired, 
there  would  be  no  need  of  transporting  prisoners  to  Botany 
Bay,  for  they  would  all  die  in  the  Thames.  It  was  a  horrid 
aggravation  of  this  infernal  cruelty,  that  the  long  detention  on 
board  those  hulks  —  from  four  to  eight  months  —  did  not  ex- 
punge a  day  from  the  term  of  their  sentence ;  it  was  so  much 
added  to  their  legal  punishment.  Howard  at  once  reported 
w^hat  he  had  seen  to  the  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
fvnd  the  worst  of  these  outrages  were  abolished  within  a  week. 
The  health  and  appearance  of  the  men  changed  for  the  better 
immediately. 

In  the  spring  of  1778,  while  all  the  liberal  world  was  rejoic- 
ing over  the  alliance  just  concluded  between  France  and  the 
United  States,  and  reading  in  the  newspapers  the  details  of 
Dr.  Franklin's  presentation  to  Louis  XVI.  and  Maria  Antoi- 
nette, John  Howard  crossed  the  channel  once  more  on  his  god- 
like errand,  and  arrived  safely  in  Holland.  At  Amsterdam  he 
met  with  the  only  serious  accident  that  befell  him  on  his  numer- 
ous journeys.  A  horse,  running  away  with  a  dray,  threw  the 
vehicle  a2:ainst  him  with  such  violence,  that  he  was  a  month  in 
recovering  from  his  injuries,  during  which  he  suffered  very 
severely.  To  give  the  reader  a  nearer  insight  into  the  mind  of 
this  singular  man,  I  will  here  copy  a  few  sentences  from  the 
diary  kept  by  him  during  this  illness  :  — 


t* 


May   11,    1778.  —  Do  me   good,  O  God,  by   this  i^ainful 


54  PEOPLE'S      BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

affliction  ;  may  I  see  the  great  uncertainty  of  health,  ease,  and 
comfort;  that  all  my  springs  are  in  thee.  Oh,  the  painful  and 
wearisome  nights  I  possess  !  May  I  be  more  thankful  if  restored 
to  health,  more  compassionate  to  others,  more  absolutely  de- 
voted to  God. 

"il/«y  13. — In  pain  and  anguish  all  night,  my  very  life  a 
burthen  to  me.  Help,  Lord  :  vain  is  the  help  of  man.  In  thee 
do  I  put  my  trust,  —  let  me  not  be  confounded. 

^^ May  14. — This  night  my  fever  abated,  my  pains  less;  I 
thank  God  I  had  two  hours'  sleep  ;  prior  to  which,  for  eighteen 
days  and  nights,  not  four  hours'  sleep.  Righteous  art  thou  in 
all  thy  ways,  and  holy  in  all  th}^  works,  —  sanctify  this  afflic- 
tion, and  show  me  wherefore  thou  contendest  with  me ;  bring 
me  out  of  the  furnace  as  silver  purified  seven  times. 

"iliay  16. — A  more  quiet  night  and  less  fever,  yet  much 
pain  until  the  morning.  If  God  should  please  to  restore  me  to 
days  of  prosperity,  may  I  remember  the  days  of  sorrow,  to 
make  me  habitually  serious  and  humble  :  may  I  learn  from  this 
affliction  more  than  I  have  learned  before,  and  have  reason  to 
bless  God  for  it." 

These  brief  passages  will  suffice  to  make  the  reader  ac- 
quainted with  Howard's  habit  of  thought  and  feeling ;  for  all 
that  part  of  his  diary  which  relates  to  himself  is  precisely  in 
the  strain  of  the  extracts  given.  The  whole  struggle  of  his  life 
was  to  do  the  work  to  which  he  felt  himself  called,  and  to  ex- 
tius^uish  in  himself  all  human  foibles  and  frailties  that  mio:lit 
hinder  him,  or  render  his  motives  less  pure  and  single. 

As  soon  as  he  had  recovered  his  health,  he  was  again  at 
work,  visiting  prisons,  descending  into  dungeons,  penetrating 
torture-chambers,  distributing  alms  to  prisoners,  discharging 
the  debts  of  imprisoned  debtors,  conversing  with  magistrates, 
judges,  princes,  aud  monarchs  upon  his  darling  theme,  and 
endeavoring  to  enlist  their  sympathy  and   co-operation. 

At  the  court  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  he  was  entertained 
with  distinction,  both  by  the  enlightened  emperor,  Joseph,  and 
by  his  mother,  the  renowned  Maria  Theresa,  Queen  of  Hun- 
gary.    He  dined  with  the  emperor,  aud  conversed  with  him  for 


JOHN  HOWARD.  n/; 


two  liours,  liiying  before  him  ;ill  the  horrors  of  the  Austrian 
dungeons,  ))ut  duly  commending  so  much  of  the  Austrian 
prison-system  as  he  found  praiseworthy.  Dining,  a  few  days 
after,  at  tlie  house  of  the  English  ambassador,  Sir  Robert  Mur- 
ray Keith,  where  a  large  company  of  Austrian  princes  and 
nobles  were  assembled,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  absurd 
iniquity  of  the  torture;  when  one  of  the  Austrians  observed, 
"  that  the  glory  of  abolishing  the  torture  in  the  Austrian  do- 
minions belonged  to  his  present  Imperial  Majesty  Joseph  II." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Howard  ;  "  his  Imperial  Majesty  has  only 
abolished  one  species  of  torture  to  establish  another  in  its  place 
more  cruel ;  for  the  torture  which  he  abolished  lasted  at  the 
most  only  a  few  hours ;  but  that  which  he  has  aj^pointed  lasts 
many  weeks,  nay,  sometimes  years.  The  poor  wretches  are 
plunged  into  a  noisome  dungeon,  as  black  as  the  Black  Hole  of 
Calcutta,  from  which  they  are  taken  only  if  they  confess  what 
is  laid  to  their  charge." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  ambassador ;  "  your  words  will  be  reported 
to  his  majesty." 

"  What !  "  cried  Howard ;  "  shall  my  tongue  be  tied  from 
speaking  truth  by  any  king  or  emperor  in  the  world?  I  repeat 
what  I  asserted,  and  maintain  its  veracitv." 

The  company  appeared  awestruck  at  his  boldness,  and  ad- 
mired it ;  but  no  one  ventured  to  make  any  observation  what- 
ever, and  a  dead  silence  ensued.  They  were  not,  perhaps, 
aware  that  he  had  said  the  same  thing  to  the  emperor  himself. 

After  a  journe}^  of  nine  months,  during  which  he  travelled 
four  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty-six  miles,  and  visited  the 
prisons  of  France,  Holland,  Prussia,  Austria,  Italy,  and  Switz- 
erland, he  returned  once  more  to  his  native  land,  with  his  note- 
books overflowinsr  w^ith  facts  and  suiriTcstions  with  which  to  aid 
his  government  in  their  design  to  construct  a  model  prison,  and 
to  reform  the  county  jails  already  existing.  These  notes  were, 
in  due  time,  digested  and  published  in  the  form  of  an  appendix 
to  his  previous  work. 

Having  once  begun  his  labors  on  behalf  of  the  prisoner  and 
the  outcast,  Howard  ended  them  only  with  his  life.  His  tour 
in  Denmark,  Sweden,  Russia,  and  Poland,  was  quickly  followed 


5G  PEOPLE'S      BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

by  another  journey  in  England,  and  that  was  succeeded  by  a 
tour  of  nearly  four  thousand  miles  in  Portugal,  Spain,  Italy,  and 
Austria ;  during  which  he  passed  from  dungeons  and  hospitals 
to  the  palaces  of  monarchs,  conveying  to  royal  ears  the  cry  of 
the  despairing  victims  of  their  indifference.  We  cannot  follow 
him  in  these  extensive  journeys.  A  few  incidents,  however, 
that  varied  the  monotony  of  horror,  we  may  glean  from  the 
records  he  has  left  us. 

In  the  debtors'  prison  at  Sheffield,  Howard  found  a  cutler 
plying  his  trade,  who  was  in  jail  for  a  debt  of  thirty  cents.  The 
fees  of  the  court  which  had  consigned  him  to  prison  amounted 
to  nearly  five  dollars,  and  this  sum  he  had  been  for  several 
weeks  trying  to  earn  in  prison.  In  another  jail  there  was  a  man, 
with  a  wife  and  five  children,  confined  for  court  fees  of  about 
one  dollar,  and  jailer's  fee  of  eighty  cents.  This  man  was  con- 
fined in  the  same  apartment  w^ith  robbers  and  murderers,  and 
had  little  hope  of  being  able  to  raise  the  money  for  his  dis- 
charge. All  such  debtors  —  and  they  were  numerous  then  in 
England  —  Howard  released  by  paying  their  debts. 

A  very  striking  occurrence  came  under  his  notice  in  Spain, 
which,  I  am  sure,  a  romance-writer,  could  employ  as  the  basis 
of  a  thrilling  tale.  In  Portugal  and  Spain,  a  cruel  custom 
prevailed  of  keeping  accused  persons  in  jail  for  months,  and 
even  years,  before  bringing  them  to  trial,  and  of  deferring  the 
execution  of  capital  punishment  for  periods  equally  long.  Such 
was  the  fidelity  of  the  people  of  those  countries  to  their  plighted 
word,  that  jailers  were  accustomed  to  let  out  such  prisoners  on 
their  parole.  A  man  who  had  been  sentenced  to  death  seven 
years  before,  and  had  been  for  a  long  time  out  on  parole,  was 
suddenly  ordered  for  execution.  At  that  time  he  was  in  the 
country,  living  with  his  family  and  working  industriously  at  his 
trade.  On  receiving  the  summons  to  come  to  Lisbon  and  meet 
his  doom,  he  bade  farewell  to  his  family  and  friends,  and 
promptly  presented  himself  at  the  jail.  The  facts,  however, 
were  made  known  to  the  srovernment,  and  his  admirable  fidelity 
was  rewarded  with  a  pardon.  Howard  remonstrated  vigorously 
against  these  cruel  delays,  both  in  conversation  with  the  gran- 
dees and  in  his  published  narrative. 


JOHN    HOWARD.  57 

Nowhere  in  Europe  was  the  torture  more  frequently  {4)[)lio(], 
or  more  oxcruciathig,  than  in  Hanover,  then  under  the  dominion 
of  the  royal  family  of  England.  In  an  interview  with  the  Didvo 
of  York,  one  of  the  princes  of  that  family,  he  described  the  tor- 
tures inllicted  there,  when  the  prince  promised  that  as  soon  as 
be  was  of  age  he  would  abolish  the  practice.  In  his  book,  there- 
fore, Howard  alluded  to  the  pecuHarly  cruel  tortures  employed 
in  Hanover,  and  added  that  the  system  Avould  not  be  of  long 
continuance.  When  the  Duke  of  York  had  reached  his  legal 
majority,  Howard  sent  him  a  copy  of  his  work  with  a  ribbon 
inserted  to  call  attention  to  the  passage.  The  delicate  hint  was 
taken,  and  the  torture-chambers  were  forever  closed  in  that 
kin<xdom. 

No  man,  perhaps,  has  ever  had  such  powder  over  criminals  as 
John  Howard.  There  Avas  a  terrible  rebellion  in  one  of  the  Lon- 
don prisons,  when  two  hundred  ruffians,  driven  mad  by  cruelty, 
were  gathered  in  the  prison-yard,  threatening  death  to  any  man 
who  should  approach  them.  Howard  insisted  on  going  in  among 
them,  and  did  so,  in  spite  of  the  advice  of  the  jailers  and  the 
entreaties  of  his  friends.  His  very  appearance  disarmed  them, 
and  they  listened  to  his  quiet  and  reasonable  remonstrances  in 
respectful  silence.  He  listened  patiently  in  his  turn  to  a  recital 
of  their  grievances,  after  which  he  pointed  out  the  folly  of  their 
attempting  to  resist  the  authorities,  advised  them  at  once  to  sub- 
mit, and  promised  to  make  their  complaints  known.  They  took 
bis  advice  at  length,  and  w^ent  peacefully  to  their  cells. 

He  w^as  once,  however,  frightened  by  a  woman.  The  lady  in 
question,  who  was  shown  to  his  apartment  in  London,  was  of 
such  amazingly  tall  stature,  and  so  masculine  in  appearance, 
that  he  thought  her  a  man  in  disguise,  —  a  jailer,  perhaps, 
whose  cruelties  he  had  exposed,  and  wdio  had  come  to  assassi- 
nate him.  He  darted  to  the  bell,  and,  summoning  his  servant, 
gave  him  a  sign  to  remain  in  the  room  till  the  fearful  visitor  was 
gone.  It  soon  appeared  that  the  lad}^  had  conceived  a  profound 
veneration  for  bis  character,  and  had  come  only  to  testify  to  him 
in  person  her  gratitude  and  admiration.  After  detaining  him 
with  a  long  and  pompous  eulogy  she  took  her  leave,  saying  that 
now  she  had  seen  Mr.  Howard  she  could  die  in  peace. 


58       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

It  was  not  because  he  was  indifferent  to  the  charms  of  f(3male 
society  that  he  remained  so  long  a  widower.  On  the  contrary, 
he  was  exceedingly  fond  of  the  company  of  ladies,  and  never 
returned  from  his  continental  tours  without  bringing  home  for 
his  female  friends  presents  of  rare  and  delicate  handiwork,  some 
of  which  required  great  care  in  packing  and  handling. 

He  would  have  gladly  married  again,  if  he  could  have  found 
a  woman  like  the  wife  he  had  lost.  Once,  in  Holland,  on  a 
canal  boat,  he  was  powerfully  struck  by  the  charms  of  a  young 
lady  travelling  with  an  elderly  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  be  her 
father.  When  they  left  the  boat,  he  ordered  his  servant  to  fol- 
low them  and  make  inquiries.  He  was  exceedingly  disconcerted 
on  learning  that  the  young  lady  was  the  wife  of  her  elderly 
companion. 

On  another  occasion,  in  England,  he  was  so  much  attracted 
by  the  writings  of  a  lady  who  was  then  rising  to  distinction  as 
authoress,  that  he  made  a  journey  to  the  place  of  her  residence, 
intending  to  offer  her  his  hand.  In  the  public  room  of  his  inn 
he  questioned  a  gentleman  as  to  the  lady's  family  and  character, 
when  he  learned,  to  his  sore  mortification,  that  she  was  about  to 
be  married.  Further  conversation  revealed  the  amusinof  fact 
that  his  informant  had  come  to  the  towni  on  the  same  errand  as 
himself,  and  was  going  home  disappointed.  The  enamored 
swains  had  no  resource  but  to  lau2:h  at  one  another. 

The  Pope  was  one  of  the  monarchs  with  whom  he  conversed 
on  his  great  subject.  He  was  received  at  the  papal  palace  with 
unusual  distinction,  and  he  was  dispensed  from  the  ceremony  of 
kissing  the  toe  of  the  pontiff.  When  he  was  about  to  retire, 
after  a  long  conversation  on  the  prisons  of  Italy,  the  Pope  said 
to  him,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  very  Protestant  head  ;  — 

*'  I  know  you  Englishmen  do  not  mind  these  things,  but  the 
blessing  of  an  old  man  can  do  you  no  harm." 

Some  of  the  short  sayings  entered  by  Howard  in  his  diary 
are  noble  and  true.  The  following  will  touch  every  generous 
mind ;  — 

"Let  this  maxim  be  a  leading  feature  of  my  life.  Constantly 
to  favor  and  relieve  tliose  that  are  lowest. ^^ 

This  also  is  exceedingly  grand  :  — 


JOHN    HOWARD.  59 

''Christ  has  made  poverty  and  mcuiincss,  joined  to  holiness, 
to  be  a  state  of  dignity." 

The  fblk:)wing  is  truer  than  many  suppose  :  — 

"Courage  and  humanity  are  inseparable  friends." 

Another  of  his  favorite  maxims  was  this  :  — 

"  Generosity  and  self-eonnnand  arc  the  striking  aspeets  of 
benevolence." 

Howard  himself  was  a  very  brave  man.  At  Constantinople, 
when  the  plague  was  raging,  he  visited  the  infected  districts  and 
the  plague  hospitals  without  the  least  trepidation,  and  remained 
in  them  liours  at  a  time,  watching  the  progress  of  the  disease, 
with  a  view  to  ascertain  its  cause,  and  learn  the  best  modes  of 
treatment.  He  was  of  opinion  that  his  vegetable  diet  tended  to 
preserve  him  from  contagion. 

During  his  last  stay  at  Vienna,  he  had  a  conversation  of  two 
hours'  duration  with  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  in  the  course  of 
which  he  told  that  high  and  mighty  potentate  some  disagreeable 
truths.  The  emperor  having  invited  him  to  the  palace  for  the 
purpose,  Howard  sent  back  word  that,  as  he  was  going  to  leave 
Vienna  on  the  following  day,  he  should  not  be  able  to  wait  on 
his  majesty.  The  emperor  then  sent  him  a  second  message, 
that  he  would  see  him  the  next  morning  before  his  departure,  at 
as  earl}"  an  hour  as  he  chose  to  name.  Howard  replied  that  he 
would  be  at  the  palace  at  nine  precisely,  and  he  kept  his  appoint- 
ment to  the  minute.  He  was  shown  into  a  small  room  iitted  up 
like  a  count ing-honse,  with  desks,  stools,  and  the  usual  appara- 
tus of  book-keeping,  for  Joseph  H.  was  very  much  a  man  of 
business.  After  the  usual  civilities,  the  emperor  introduced  the 
topic  by  asking  his  guest  what  he  thought  of  his  new  military 
hospital,  which  Howard  had  visited  a  few  days  before. 

"I  beg  first  to  be  informed,"  said  the  philanthropist,  "  whether 
I  may  speak  my  mind  freely." 

The  emperor  having  assured  him  that  he  desired  his  real  opin- 
ion, Howard  answered  the  question  bluntly  enough. 

"I  must,  then,"  said  he,  "take  the  libert}"  of  saying  that  your 
majesty's  military  hospital  is  loaded  with  defects.  The  allow- 
ance of  bread  is  too  small;  the  apartments  are  not  kept  clean, 
and  are  also,  in  many  respects,  ill-constructed.      One  defect 


GO  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

particularly  struck  rac  :  the  care  of  the  sick  is  committed  to 
men,  who  are  very  unfit  for  that  office,  especially  when  it  is  im- 
posed on  them  as  a  punishment,  as  I  understand  to  be  the  case 
here." 

"As  to  the  bread,"  replied  the  emperor,  "the  allowance  is  the 
same  as  that  of  every  other  soldier,  —  one  pound  a  day." 

"It  is  not  sufficient,"  said  Howard,  "for  a  man  who  is  re- 
quired to  do  any  kind  of  work,  or  who  is  recovering  from  sick- 
ness ;  it  is  barely  adequate  to  the  support  of  life." 

"What  do  you  think,"  asked  the  emperor,  "of  the  new  tower 
"or  lunatics  ?  " 

"It  is  by  no  means  suck  as  I  could  wish;  it  is  too  confined, 
and  not  properly  managed." 

Saying  Avhich,  Howard  took  his  note-book  from  his  pocket, 
and  pointed  out  the  faults  of  the  establishment,  as  he  had  noted 
them  down  at  the  time  of  his  visit. 

He  was  proceeding  to  discourse  of  the  prisons  of  Austria,  —  • 
a  subject  upon  which  he  had  expressed  strong  opinions  on  a 
previous  visit,  some  years  before.  As  he  hesitated  to  enter 
upon  this  topic,  the  emperor  said  :  — 

"  Speak  without  fear." 

"I  saw  in  them,"  Howard  continued,  "many  things  that  filled 
me.  with  astonishment  and  grief.  They  all  have  dungeons.  The 
torture  is  said  to  be  abolished  in  your  majesty's  dominions,  but 
it  is  only  so  in  appearance,  for  what  is  now  practised  is  worse 
than  any  torture.  Poor  wretches  are  confined  twenty  feet  under 
ground,  in  places  just  fitted  to  receive  their  bodies,  and  some 
of  them  are  kept  there  for  eighteen  months.  Others  are  in 
dungeons,  chained  so  closely  to  the  wall  that  they  can  hardly 
breathe.  All  of  them  are  deprived  of  proper  consolation  and 
religious  support." 

"Sir,"  interrupted  the  emperor,  with  some  abruptness,  "in 
your  country  they  hang  for  the  slightest  offences." 

"I  grant,"  said  Howard,  "that  the  multiplicity  of  her  capital 
punishments  is  a  disgrace  to  England ;  but  one  fault  does  not 
excuse  another,  nor,  in  this  instance,  is  the  parallel  just;  for, 
I  declare  I  would  rather  be  hanged,  if  it  were  possible,  ten 
times  over,  than  undergo  such  a  continuance  of  sufferings  as  the 


J  O II N    II 0  W  A  R  D  .  61 

unhappy  beings  endure  "who  have  the  misfortune  to  ])C  confined 
iu  your  majesty's  prisons.  i\Iany  of  these  men  have  not  Ijeen 
brought  to  trial,  and  should  they  be  found  innocent  of  the 
crimes  laid  to  their  charge,  it  is  out  of  your  majesty's  power  to 
make  them  a  reparation  for  the  injuries  you  have  done  them  ; 
for  it  is  now  too  late  to  do  them  justice,  weakened  and  deranged 
m  their  health  and  faculties  as  they  are,  by  so  long  a  solitary 
confinement." 

He  objected  also  to  the  convicts  being  sent  out  in  gangs  to 
clean  the  streets,  and  showed  himself  a  good  politician,  but  a 
bad  courtier,  by  dwelling  on  the  excellent  prison  regulations  of 
the  King  of  Prussia. 

The  emperor  asked  him  w'hat  he  thought  of  the  poor-houses 
of  Austria. 

"In  them,  too,"  said  this  uncompromising  Briton,  "there  are 
many  defects.  In  the  first  place,  the  people  are  obliged  to  sleep 
in  their  clothes, — a  jDractice  that  never  fails  to  breed  distempers 
iu  the  end.  Secondly,  little  or  no  attention  is  paid  to  cleanli- 
ness.    Thirdly,  the  allowance  of  bread  is  too  small." 

"Where,"  asked  the  emperor,  much  disturbed,  "did  3'ou  find 
any  institutions  better  of  this  kind  ?  " 

"There  icas  one  better,"  replied  How^ard,  with  marked  em- 
phasis. 

"  And  where  was  that  ?  " 

"At  Ghent,"  said  Howard,  "but  not  so  now  —  not  so  now  !  " 

Howard  here  alluded  to  an  institution,  which,  when  he  first 
saw  it,  was  a  model  of  excellence,  but  which  had  deteriorated 
under  the  present  emperor. 

At  the  mention  of  Ghent  the  emperor  rose,  and  was  evidently 
moved  by  the  rebuke.  He  took  his  reprover  b}^  the  hand, 
thanked  him  cordially  for  his  advice,  and  bade  him  farewell  with 
the  warmest  expressions  of  regard. 

He  told  the  English  ambassador,  the  next  day,  that  his 
countryman  w^as  a  man  without  ceremony  or  compliment,  but 
that  he  liked  him  all  the  better  for  it,  and  should  follow  such  of 
his  recommendations  as  he  approved. 

Soon  after  his  return  from  his  second,  journey  on  the  Conti- 
nent of  Europe,  Howard  started  on  a  new  tour  iu  England,  iu 


62  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

order  to  ascertain  how  flir  the  promised  reforms  in  the  county 
jails  had  been  carried  out.  He  found  that  most  of  them  had 
been  in  some  degree  improved,  but  that  all  of  them  were  still 
very  far  from  being  what  they  should  be. 

On  this  journey  he  saw  several  extremely  curious  things. 
We  have  all  heard  much  of  the  conservatism  that  prevails  at  the 
city  of  Oxford ;  but  I  doubt  if  any  one  has  recorded  so  remark- 
able an  instance  of  it  as  John  Howard,  in  his  diary  of  this  tour. 
In  the  year  1577,  the  jail  fever  raged  in  the  county  jail  at  Ox- 
ford, and  spread  from  the  prison  to  the  court,  and  from  the 
court  to  the  town.  In  the  course  of  forty  hours,  the  lord  chief 
baron  (as  the  presiding  judge  was  called),  the  high  sheriff,  the 
jurymen,  and  all  who  were  in  the  court  room,  to  the  number 
of  three  hundred,  died  of  this  malignant  disease.  The  citizens 
fled  in  terror  from  the  town,  and,  ever  after,  that  session  of  the 
court  was  called  the  "Black  Assize." 

After  the  lapse  of  two  hundred  and  four  years,  John  Howard 
visited  that  prison,  and  found  it  just  as  close,  as  offensive,  and 
as  liable  to  breed  the  fever,  as  it  had  been  at  the  time  of  the 
Black  Assize.  Nothing  had  been  changed.  There  were  the 
same  low  ceilings,  the  same  small  windows,  the  same  unclean- 
ness,  as  in  1577.  "I  should  not  greatly  wonder,"  wrote  How- 
ard, "to  hear  of  another  Black  Assize  at  Oxford."  This  is  an 
illustration  of  that  conservative  spirit  which  has  recently  re- 
jected Mr.  Gladstone,  and  which  Matthew  Arnold  thinks  so 
"romantic." 

It  is  pleasant  to  connect  the  name  of  Howard  with  the  Amer- 
ican Revolution.  At  this  time  there  were  many  hundreds  of 
American  prisoners  of  war  in  the  jails  along  the  southern  coast 
of  England.  Howard  visited  them  all,  inquired,  with  his  usual 
thoroughness,  into  their  condition,  and  made  many  of  them  par- 
takers of  his  bounty.  During  the  first  two  ^^ears  of  the  war 
the  British  government  had  pretended  to  regard  these  prisoners 
as  traitors  and  felons ;  but  when  Dr.  Franklin's  little  fleet  of 
cruisers,  and  Paul  Jones'  audacious  gallantry,  had  filled  the 
prisons  of  France  with  British  sailors,  the  ministry  saw  the 
subject  in  another  light,  and  treated  them  as  prisoners  of  war. 
Dr.  Franklin  allowed  each  of  them  eighteen  pence  a  week,  and 


JOHN    HOWARD.  G3 

caused  them  fo  he  frequently  visited  by  English  friends  of 
America.  Howard  found  them,  therefore,  in  1780,  tolerably 
comfortable,  thonujli  suHerini^  from  havin<^  nothinir  io  do.  One 
horrid  abuse,  however,  called  from  him  indignant  remonstrance. 
It  seems  that  the  jailer  paid  ten  shillings  reward  to  any  one 
who  brought  in  an  escaped  prisoner,  and  as  he  paid  this  out  of 
his  own  pocket,  he  took  care  to  get  it  ])ack  from  the  prisoner. 
The  prisoner  having  no  money  except  his  eighteen  pence  a 
week,  the  jailer  locked  him  up  in  a  dark  dungeon,  and  kept  him 
on  half  rations,  till  the  sum  often  shillings  was  made  up,  which 
required  (according  to  the  jailer's  computation)  foi'ty  days. 
Howard  notified  the  irovernment  of  this  crueltv,  and  ari^^ued  that 
a  prisoner  of  war,  unlike  a  criminal,  had  a  right  to  escape  if  he 
could,  and  ought  not  to  be  punished  for  it  at  all.  In  another 
place  of  confinement  for  prisoners  of  war,  he  whisked  out  his 
pocket  scales  at  an  unexpected  moment,  and  found  that  the 
jailer  was  giving  out  loaves  of  bread  two  ounces  under  weight. 
This  led  him  to  apply  his  nose  to  the  meat,  which  was  tainted. 
These  facts  he  made  known  to  the  ximerican  assent,  who  had 
the  meat  exchanged,  and  the  deficiency  in  the  bread  made  good. 
In  another  prison  he  found  one  hundred  and  thirteen  French 
and  American  prisoners  without  shoes,  stockings,  or  shirts,  and 
many  sick  men  lying  upon  rotten  straw,  which  led  him  to  recom- 
mend to  the  government  to  appoint  an  inspector,  whose  duty  it 
should  be  to  report  quarterly  the  condition  and  wants  of  prison- 
ers of  war,  and  see  that  jailers  and  contractors  did  their  duty. 

The  custom  of  locking  up  men  and  women  together  still  pre- 
vailed in  many  prisons.  In  one,  he  found  two  soldiers  and  a 
young  girl,  all  of  whom  were  sentenced  to  a  3'ear's  imprison- 
ment, confined  in  the  same  room  in  the  daytime.  In  another, 
eleven  young  girls  were  confined,  day  and  night,  with  a  large 
number  of  raving  lunatics,  men  and  women.  On  visiting 
another,  he  Avas  pleased  to  see  that,  since  his  last  visit,  the 
sewer  had  been  boarded  up,  so  that  noiv  the  rats  could  not  prey 
upon  the  criminals,  as  they  had  formerly  done,  —  in  one  in- 
stance, devouring  half  the  face  of  an  officer  confined  for  debt. 
At  the  bridewell,  in  Liverpool,  he  found  a  singular  custom  pre- 
vailing.    Every  woman,    on    her   admission   to    the  jail,   was 


64  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

brought  into  the  bath-room  clad  only  in  a  flannel  chemise,  ana 
placed  in  a  chair  with  her  back  to  the  bath-tub.  This  chair 
turned  on  a  hinge,  and  Avhen  the  signal  was  given,  it  was  turned 
over,  and  the  woman  with  it,  who  wxnt  backwards  into  the 
water  over  head  and  ears.  This  operation  was  repeated  three 
times,  when  the  woman  was  considered  initiated.  Howard 
inquired  why  the  men  were  not  subjected  to  this  ducking:  but 
he  could  only  learn  that  such  was  not  the  custom  at  Liverpool. 

The  ducking-chair  reminded  him  of  a  prison  which  he  had 
once  visited  in  Holland,  where  every  prisoner  was  severely 
whipped,  both  on  entering  and  on  leaving  the  prison.  Howard 
seems  to  have  inclined  to  an  approval  of  this  custom,  for  he  was 
the  farthest  possible  from  being  a  philanthropist  of  the  rose- 
water  description.  He  thought  prisons  should  be  places  that 
criminals  would  dislike  exceedingly  ;  but  he  was  of  opinion  that 
the  State  has  no  right  to  inflict  penalties  injurious  to  health  and 
character ;  but  that  the  punishments  which  it  inflicts  should  be 
salutary  to  both.  He  was  not  a  man  to  whine  about  a  young 
rascal's  getting  a  good  whipping,  if  a  good  whipping  would  do 
him  any  good. 

On  his  return  from  this  tour,  he  was  appointed  one  of  three 
commissioners  to  superintend  the  construction  of  a  prison  upon 
the  plans  unfolded  by  him  in  his  work.  He  hesitated  long  to 
accept  this  appointment,  because  there  was  a  salary  attached  to 
it.  He  seems  to  have  been  of  Dr.  Franklin's  opinion,  and  may 
have  heard  Franklin  express  it,  that  public  service,  involving 
trust  and  responsibility,  should  be  rendered  gratuitously,  or 
with  no  other  reward  than  the  honor  of  holding  a  public  office. 
His  scruples  were  overcome,  however,  and  he  entered  upon  the 
discharo'e  of  his  duties  as  commissioner.  He  soon  discovered 
that  one  of  his  colleagues  was  a  gentleman  who  expected  to  have 
his  own  way  in  every  particular;  an  obstinate,  impracticable 
man,  not  to  be  convinced  or  persuaded.  After  months  of  eflfort, 
the  commissioners  could  not  so  much  as  agree  as  to  where  the 
prison  should  be  built;  and  Howard,  finding  that  he  must  con- 
sent to  a  location  of  Avhich  he  disapproved,  or  keep  the  enter- 
prise at  a  stand  still,  resigned  his  office. 

There  were  fields  for  the  exercise  of  his  benevolence  still  nu- 


JOHN    HOWARD.  Qr^ 

explored.  Tii  M^y,  1781,  he  set  oil'  upon  Lis  lliird  tour  of  the 
Continent  of  Europe,  intendiu^n^  now  to  penetrate  the  dungeons 
of  the  north  of  Europe,  particularly  tliosc  of  Kus.sia  and  Poland, 
countries  then  little  known  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  l*as,sing 
through  Holland  and  part  of  Germany,  he  was  gratified  to  see, 
in  the  cleanliness  of  many  prisons,  and  in  the  improved  appear- 
ance of  prisoners,  the  results  of  his  previous  visits.  In  Den- 
mark, the  Avholc  system  of  punishment  bore  the  marks  of 
antiquit}'.  The  whipping-post  stood  in  every  town,  the  terror 
of  evil-doers.  Criminals  were  still  executed  by  beheading,  and, 
not  unfrequently,  by  breaking  on  the  wheel.  Petty  thefts  were 
punished  by  inserting  the  head  of  the  thief  in  the  head  of  a 
barrel,  so  that  the  barrel  covered  him  like  a  cloak,  and  in  this 
costume  he  was  marched  about  the  streets,  attended  by  a  guard. 
No  penalty,  he  sa^^s,  was  so  much  dreaded  by  petty  criminals  as 
this.  Grand  larceny  was  punished  by  whipping,  and  by  making 
the  criminal  a  slave  for  life.  The  prisons  of  Denmark  were 
close,  crowded,  and  offensive,  to  such  a  degree  that,  after  re- 
mainino-  in  one  of  them  only  a  short  time,  he  was  seized  with  a 
violent  headache.  In  two  small  rooms,  ten  feet  high,  he  counted 
one  hundred  and  forty-three  men,  who  never  changed  their 
clothes  at  night,  and  who  had  new  clothes  every  two  years. 
Half  naked,  emaciated,  sick,  and  without  employment,  inhaling 
air  that  was  poisonous,  many  of  them  chained,  these  poor 
wretches  endured  a  hideous  monotony  of  anguish  that  moved 
him  to  equal  indignation  and  pity.  Underneath  this  scene  of 
horror,  ten  steps  down,  he  discovered  seven  small  dungeons, 
each  having  one  minute  window,  through  which  came  a  few 
feeble  rays  of  light,  and  a  little  air  ;  and  in  these  dungeons  were 
eleven  pallid,  miserable  men,  whose  appearance,  says  Howard, 
was  "  shocking  to  humanity."  He  remonstrated  so  vehemently 
against  this  infernal  cruelty,  that,  before  he  left  the  town,  he 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  prison  much  cleaner  and  less 
offensive  than  he  found  it. 

In  Sweden,  the  same  ignorance  of  the  necessity  of  ventilation, 
and  the  same  appalling  indifference  to  human  sullcring,  shocked 
him  everywhere.  Here,  too,  the  English  custom  prevailed  of 
permitting  jailers  to  sell  liquors  to  the  prisoners,  and  again  he 

5 


G6  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

saw  felons  drinking  and  carousing  together  by  day,  and  inliaiing 
the  pestiferous  air  of  under-ground  dungeons  at  night. 

An  amusing  instance  of  his  habit  of  believing  nothing  but 
what  he  saw,  occurred  in  Sweden.  He  was  told  that  the  young 
king,  Gustavus  HI.,  had  abolished  torture  throughout  his  do- 
minions, and  had,  in  particular,  ordered  the  torture-chamber  iu 
Stockholm  to  be  bricked  up.  This  would  have  satisfied  most 
men;  but  Howard,  on  visiting  that  prison,  insisted  on  being 
taken  to  the  cellar,  and  shown  the  very  wall  that  was  said  to 
have  been  built.  He  was  not  very  much  astonished  to  find  that 
the  king's  order  had  not  been  obeyed.  There  was  the  torture- 
chamber  still  open,  with  all  its  apparatus. 

A  similar  anecdote  is  related  of  his  journey  in  Russia.  He 
was  told  at  Petersburgh  that  the  empress  had  abolished  capital 
punishment.  Instead  of  entering  this  information  in  his  diary, 
as  many  travellers  would  have  done,  he  called  a  coach  and 
drove  to  the  house  of  the  executioner.  That  functionary, 
alarmed  at  seeing  an  unknown  gentleman  enter  his  door,  ap- 
peared yevy  much  embarrassed,  —  a  state  of  mind  which  Howard 
purposely  increased  by  assuming  an  air  of  authority.  He  as- 
sured the  man,  however,  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear,  provided 
he  told  the  exact  truth,  which  he  promised  to  do. 

"Can  you,"  asked  Howard,  "inflict  the  knout  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  cause  death  in  a  short  time?" 

"Yes;  I  can,"  replied  the  executioner. 

"In  how  short  a  time?" 

"In  a  day  or  two." 

"Have  you  ever  so  inflicted  it?" 

"I  have." 

"Have  you  lately?" 

"  Yes  ;  the  last  man  who  was  punished  with  my  hands  by  the 
knout  died  of  the  punishment." 

"How  do  you  render  it  thus  mortal?" 

"By  one  or  more  strokes  on  the  sides,  which  carry  oflT  large 
pieces  of  flesh." 

"Do  you  receive  orders  thus  to  inflict  the  punishment?" 

"I  do." 

He  concluded  from  this  conversation,  not  that  capital  punish- 


JOHN    IIOWAPiD.  G7 

mciit  had  been  abolished  in  Russia,  hut  that  the  mode  of  inflict- 
ing it  had  been  changed  from  sudden  and  painless  to  slow  and 
agonizing.  A  few  days  after,  he  saw  a  man  and  a  woman 
publicly  knouted.  Twenty-five  strokes  of  the  thick  leathern 
thong  upon  the  woman's  naked  back,  and  sixty  upon  that  of 
the  man,  nearly  sufficed  to  kill  both.  The  woman  was  borne 
away  limp  and  insensible,  but  recovered  ;  the  man  was  no  more 
seen,  and  was  supposed  to  have  died. 

The  prisons  of  Russia,  and  its  system  of  recruiting,  filled  his 
memorandum  book  with  horrors,  and  he  returned  home  after 
travelling  four  thousand  four  hundred  and  sixty-five  miles,  to 
make  known  to  the  rulers  of  nations  what  cruelties  were  com- 
mitted, in  their  name,  upon  that  portion  of  their  subjects  whom 
they  arc  peculiarly  bound  to  protect,  —  the  poor,  the  criminal, 
the  lunatic,  and  the  conscript. 

The  close  of  Howard's  life,  otherwise  serene  and  happy,  was 
embittered  by  one  most  poignant  sorrow.  His  only  son,  a 
handsome,  spirited,  and  intelligent  youth,  fell  into  vicious 
habits,  and  became,  at  twenty-five,  a  total  wreck  in  body  and 
mind,  and  ended  his  days  in  a  mad-house. 

Every  virtuous  parent  has  an  interest  in  knowing  why  so 
good  a  man  should  have  so  wretchedly  failed  in  rearing  bis 
child  to  virtue.  It  was  not  that  he  neglected  his  parental 
duties,  nor  that  he  was  wanting  in  the  tenderest  affection  for 
his  boy.  He  usually  planned  his  journeys  so  as  to  be  at  home 
during  his  son's  vacations,  and,  when  this  could  not  be,  the  lad 
resided  with  his  aunt,  who  loved  him  much,  and  who  presided 
over  an  orderly  and  virtuous  home.  In  the  selection  of  his 
schools,  too,  Howard  spared  no  pains  to  find  such  as  were  con- 
ducted with  a  special  view  to  the  moral  improvement  of  the 
pupils.  He  would  not  send  his  son  to  Eton,  though  such  had 
been  his  intention,  because  he  was  told  by  one  of  the  masters 
of  that  school,  that  no  particular  attention  w^as  bestowed  there 
upon  the  moral  education  of  the  boys.  This  w^as,  perhaps,  an 
error  in  judgment  on  the  part  of  the  father.  Young  Howard 
was  the  heir  to  two  large  estates,  and,  at  Eton,  this  would  have 
been  no  distinction ;  because  at  that  school  he  would  have  met 
a   hundred    bo^^s    richer    than   himself,    and   higher   in   rank ; 


68  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    O^"    BIOGRAPHY. 

whereas,  at  the  third-rate  private  schools  which  he  attended, 
his  great  expectations,  as  w^ell  as  the  celebrity  of  his  father, 
marked  him  out  from  his  companions  as  an  object  to  be  favored 
by  teachers,  courted  by  pupils,  and  flattered  hy  visitors. 

There  was  an  unusual  disparity  of  age  between  father  and 
son.  When  the  youth  w^as  eighteen,  Howard  was  fifty-six. 
This  disparity  alone  w^ould  have  made  it  more  difficult  for  the 
father  to  associate  wdth  the  son  on  those  easy  and  affectionate 
terms  which  alone  win  a  child's  confidence. 

Besides  this,  as  I  have  before  intimated,  he  was  a  father  of 
the  old  school.  He  was  one  of  those  wdio  demand  from  wife, 
child,  and  servant,  a  prompt,  unquestioning  obedience  to  unex- 
plained commands.  He  required  a  submission  of  his  child's 
will  to  his  own  will,  to  such  a  degree  as  to  render  his  presence 
a  painful  restraint  upon  the  child's  most  trifling  actions.  "While 
the  w^orld  gazed  in  rapture  at  Howard's  sublime  career  of 
benevolence,  to  this  active,  pleasure-loving  youth,  he  w^as 
merely  a  very  particular,  precise,  opinionative  "old  man,"  or 
"governor,"  who  checked  him  constantly  in  the  enjoyment  of 
pleasures  that  were  freely  permitted  to  his  school-fellows.  On 
principle,  too,  Howard  avoided  all  those  caresses  and  ex- 
pressions of  fondness,  which  nature  prompts,  fearing  lest  his 
son  should  presume  upon  his  love,  and  the  less  regard  his 
authority. 

He  began  the  education  of  his  son  almost  as  soon  as  the  child 
was  old  enough  to  manifest  a  preference.  He  laid  it  down  as 
an  inflexible  rule  that  the  infant  should  have  nothing  that  it 
cried  for,  —  an  excellent  principle  wdien  it  is  not  carried  too 
far,  but  one  which  is  much  better  enforced  by  a  mother  than  a 
father.  A  mother  does  not  usually  lay  down  an?/  inflexible 
rule  for  the  government  of  a  very  young  child,  but  varies  her 
treatment  with  the  occasion.  She  learns  to  respect  the  crying 
of  her  infant,  and  possesses  that  intimate  knowledge  of  her  off- 
spring which  enables  her  to  discriminate  between  the  cry  of 
petulance  and  ill-temper,  and  the  cry  W'hich  nature  prompts  as 
the  expression  of  pain  and  desire.  Few  men  have  the  quick 
sympathy  with  infancy  which  maternal  love  inspires.  The 
mother  is  endowed  with  instincts  implanted  within  her  by  the 


JOHN     IIOWAPvD.  1)9 

anciTiiJ^:  wisdom  of  God,  while  ii  father  is  left  to  the  guidance 
of  that  imperfect  and  variable  light  which  he  proudly  styles  his 
reason. 

When  Howard  heard  his  child  crying  in  the  nursery,  he 
would  go  to  the  apartment,  and,  taking  the  child  gently  into 
his  lap,  hold  it  there  until  it  had  ceased,  and  then  hand  it  l)ack 
to  the  nurse.  A  mother  might  sometimes  do  this,  but  she 
would  be  very  far  from  making  it  an  invariable  rule.  A  good 
mother  soon  learns  that  a  child  under  two  years  of  age  seldom 
cries  except  when  it  ought  to  cry,  and  she  would  generally 
soothe  and  caress  it  rather  than  make  its  crying  an  occasion  of 
moral  discipline. 

Howard  was  exceedingly  particular  with  regard  to  the  diet 
of  the  boy,  and  careful  to  inure  him  to  hardship.  This,  too, 
was  an  excellent  thing,  but  he  did  not  carry  it  out  wisely.  He 
purposely  forbore  all  explanation  of  his  rules  and  denials.  He 
never  thought  it  right  to  say  to  the  child:  "My  son,  these 
pears  will  make  you  sick,  if  you  eat  many  of  them,  or  eat  them 
at  improper  times."  He  merely  said:  "Jack,  never  touch  a 
pear  unless  I  give  it  to  you."  If  the  boy  yielded  to  the 
temptation  afforded  by  a  garden  full  of  fruit,  he  would  place 
him  in  a  seat,  and  command  him  not  to  stir  or  speak  until  he 
should  give  him  permission.  Such  was  his  ascendency  over 
the  child,  that  once  when  he  had  given  him  such  an  order  and 
had  forgotten  all  about  it,  he  found  the  child,  four  hours  after, 
in  the  precise  spot  where  he  had  placed  him,  fast  asleep. 

Now,  nothing  is  easier  than  to  subdue  the  will  of  a  boy,  even 
to  this  degree.  But  how  does  this  system  work  w^hen,  by  and 
by,  the  child  is  a  child  no  longer?  The  habit  of  obedience 
remains,  but  the  father's  eye  cannot  be  alwa3's  upon  the  lad  ; 
and,  while  he  practises  a  ver}^  strict  external  obedience,  his 
mind  begins  to  revolt,  and  he  is  a  "good  boy"  only  so  long  as 
the  father  is  present  to  enforce  his  commands.  The  grand  art 
of  education  is  to  so  inform  the  child's  understandini;,  and  so 
mould  his  disposition,  that  he  will  prefer  to  do  right.  It  is 
true,  that  a  father  must  sometimes  issue  positive  orders  and 
compel  exact  obedience ;  but  the  best  parents  do  this  seldom, 


70  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

and  endeavor  chiefly  to  render  the  virtue  of  their  children  an 
inward,  self-sustaining  force. 

Few  men  have  been  more  truly  good  than  John  Howard,  and 
he  knew  how  to  "  let  his  light  shine  "  to  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth.  But  he  had  not  the  art  of  rendering  virtue  attractive  to 
his  only  son.  Living,  as  he  did,  under  a  constant  and  awful 
sense  of  the  unseen  realities  of  another  world,  he  undervalued 
the  charms  of  this,  and  felt  that  man's  only  business  here  is  to 
prepare  for  hereafter.  He  dwelt  upon  those  truths  too  exclu- 
sively. For  him,  —  a  man  who  had  outlived  the  illusions  of 
youth,  whose  only  joy  was  to  do  good  by  self-denying  and 
perilous  toil,  a  lonely  old  widower,  too,  —  those  austere  con- 
ceptions of  duty  were  satisfying  and  comforting.  How  re- 
pulsive must  they  have  been  to  a  young  man,  abounding  in 
spirits,  eager  for  enjoyment,  and  j)ossessing  superabundant 
means  of  gratifying  every  desire  !  What  a  pity  his  father 
could  not  have  sympathized  with  his  youth,  and  ennobled  his 
pleasures  by  sharing  in  them  ! 

I  have  frequently  observed  how  similar  habits  and  scruples 
tend  to  divide  young  people  from  their  elders,  making  in  each 
family  two  distinct  classes,  one  of  which  forswears  all  pleasure, 
and  the  other  cares  for  nothing  but  pleasure,  each  bitterly  cen- 
suring the  other.  A  sight  more  melancholy  than  this,  a  state 
of  things  more  demoralizing  than  this,  I  have  never  beheld ; 
because  we  see  here  the  noblest  forces  of  human  nature  —  the 
authority  of  conscience  and  the  impulses  of  youth — warring 
upon  and  spoiling  one  another ;  parents  injuring  their  children 
from  their  very  anxiety  to  keep  them  from  harm. 

The  immediate  cause  of  the  ruin  of  young  Howard  was  the 
servant  who  accompanied  his  father  on  his  philanthropic 
journeys.  This  servant,  by  his  assiduous  attention  to  his 
master,  had  w^on  his  complete  confidence,  and  he  was  the  con- 
stant playmate  of  his  son  during  his  vacations.  The  two  young 
fellows  were  equally  averse  to  Howard's  precise  and  rigid  ways, 
and  combined  their  ingenuity  in  evading  the  rules  of  his  house. 
The  servant  early  initiated  the  lad  into  the  low  vices  of  London, 
and  accompanied  him  on  many  a  midnight  prowl.  The  youth 
took  to  vicious  pleasures  with  fatal  readiness,  and  he  was  ruined 


JOUN     IIOWAKD.  71 

past  rcrncd}^  before  his  father  suspected  that  he  Ijad  gone 
astray.  Diseases  contracted  iu  the  lowest  dens  of  infamy  were 
treated  Avith  remedies  so  powerful  as  to  impair  his  constitution, 
and  plant  within  him  the  seeds  of  insanity.  Ilis  college  career 
was  one  of  wild  riot  and  debauchery.  He  would  brini^  home 
from  Cambridge,  in  his  father's  absence,  a  party  of  roysterers, 
and  keep  up  a  continual  debauch  upon  the  contents  of  a  well- 
stored  cellar,  frightening  from  the  house  his  father's  old 
servants,  and  alarming  all  the  neighborhood.  When  he  came 
of  age,  and  had  the  control  of  a  large  income,  he  was  recklessly 
extravagant,  and  astonished  the  village  with  his  phaetons  and 
liis  tandems.  His  naturally  irritable  temper  was  aggravated  by 
nis  excesses,  and  soon  his  frequent  paroxysms  of  fury  announced 
the  approach  of  madness. 

Howard  was  in  the  south  of  Europe  when  first  his  friends 
ventured  to  inform  him  of  his  son's  condition.  "I  have  a  mel- 
ancholy letter,"  he  Avrote,  "relative  to  my  unhappy  young  man. 
It  is  indeed  a  bitter  affliction  —  a  son,  an  only  son!"  Ho 
hurried  home.  The  first  five  hundred  miles  he  never  stopped, 
day  nor  night,  except  to  change  horses.  He  reached  his  house 
to  find  his  son  a  raving  madman,  and  to  learn  that  his  physicians 
had  little  hope  of  his  restoration.  One  of  the  symptoms  of  his 
madness  was  a  most  violent  antipathy  to  his  fiither,  which  ban- 
ished Iloward  from  his  home,  until  the  increasing  violence  of 
the  malad}^  compelled  the  removal  of  the  patient  to  an  asylum, 
"where  he  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-five. 

Howard  saw  his  error  too  late.  In  conversation  with  the 
minister  of  his  church  and  others,  he  regretted  deeply  that  he 
had  not  been  more  his  lost  son's  companion  and  friend,  and 
sympathized  more  with  his  youthful  impulses.  It  was  small 
comfort  now  to  think  that  he  had  acted  for  the  best.  A  parent 
who  sees  his  only  child  ruined  cannot  console  himself  with  such 
a  poor  excuse,  because  the  reflection  continually  comes  back  to 
torment  him,  "I  ought  to  have  known  better." 

When  Howard  Avas  no  more,  there  were  not  wanting  persons 
to  raise  the  charge  that  the  man  who  had  spent  the  best  years 
of  his  life  in  philanthropic  labors,  had  been  wanting  in  his  duty 
to  his  own  ofispring,  and  had  driven  him  mad  by  his  harshness 


72  PEOPLE'S     BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

and  severity.  The  publication  of  this  calumny  had  the  effect  of 
calling  forth  the  flicts  which  have  been  briefly  given  above.  All 
his  friends  and  servants  testified  that  he  had  been  a  most  aflec- 
tionate,  careful,  and  conscientious  father,  who  had  only  erred 
in  carrying  out  good  principles  with  the  rigidity  of  a  father,  in- 
stead of  employing  the  pliant,  sympathetic  method  of  a  mother. 
"My  hands,"  wrote  Dr.  Aikin,  who  was  Howard's  literary  as- 
sistant, "  tremble  with  indignation  and  horror  while  I  copy  the 
accusation ;  and  scarcely  can  I  restrain  mj^self  within  temper- 
ate bounds  whilst  I  refute  a  slander  black  as  hell,  against  a  man 
whose  unparalleled  benevolence  rendered  him  the  pride  and 
ornament  of  human  nature." 

Upon  his  return  from  his  tour  in  the  south  of  Europe,  How- 
ard, according  to  his  custom,  published  an  account  of  his  ob- 
servations, dwelling  particularly  upon  the  plague  hospitals  and 
the  system  of  quarantine.  At  the  close  of  this  work  the  fol- 
lowing passage  occurred :  — 

"To  my  country  I  commit  the  result  of  my  past  labors.  It 
is  m}^  intention  again  to  quit  it  for  the  purpose  of  revisiting 
Turkey,  Russia,  and  some  other  countries,  and  extending  my 
tour  to  the  East.  I  am  not  insensible  of  the  dans^ers  that  must 
attend  such  a  journey.  Trusting,  however,  in  the  protection 
of  that  kind  Providence  which  has:  hitherto  preserved  me,  I 
calmly  and  cheerfully  commit  myself  to  the  disposal  of  unerring 
Wisdom.  Should  it  please  God  to  cut  off  my  life  in  the  prose- 
cution of  this  design,  let  not  my  conduct  be  uncandidly  imputed 
to  rashness  or  enthusiasm,  but  to  a  serious,  deliberate  convic- 
tion that  I  am  pursuing  the  path  of  duty ;  and  to  a  sincere 
desire  of  being  made  an  instrument  of  more  extensive  useful- 
ness to  my  fellow-creatures  than  could  be  expected  in  the  nar- 
rower circle  of  a  retired  life." 

The  particular  object  of  this  new  journey  was  to  investigate 
the  causes  of  the  plague,  —  that  most  terrible  of  diseases,  which, 
every  few  years,  desolated  the  Eastern  world,  and  occasionally 
ravaged  the  south  of  Europe.  It  was  Howard's  determination 
to  track  the  monster  to  his  lair.     He  was  resolved  to  ^o  to  tho 


JOHN    now  All  D.  73 

places  Avlicre  the  plague  originated,  and  endeavor  to  ascertain 
the  circumstances  in  Avhich  it  began  its  destructive  course,  and 
the  means  b}'  Avhich  it  was  communicated  from  city  to  city,  and 
from  country  to  country.  He  Avished,  also,  to  study  the  various 
modes  of  treating  it,  and,  especially,  to  try  whether  certain 
medicines  of  English  manufacture,  in  which  he  had  great  conli- 
dcncc,  could  not  be  introduced  into  the  East  with  advantage. 

lie  had  a  strong  presentiment  that  from  this  journey  he  should 
never  return,  and  therefore  thoui^ht  it  wrons^  to  expose  his  ser- 
vant  to  its  manifold  perils.  The  man,  however,  so  earnestly 
entreated  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  him,  that  his  scruples 
w^ere  at  last  overcome.  All  his  preparations  were  made  with  a 
view  to  the  probability  of  his  never  again  seeing  his  native 
land.  lie  made  his  will  with  great  deliberation,  bequeathing  a 
great  numl)er  of  small  legacies  to  his  dependents  and  friends, 
overlooking  no  one  who  had  the  sliirhtest  claim  to  his  favor. 
To  twenty  poor  widows  he  left  two  guineas  each.  lie  left  five 
pounds  each  to  ten  of  his  poor  cottagers  who  should  not  have 
been  in  an  ale-house  for  the  twelve  months  preceding  his  death. 
The  same  sum  Avas  to  be  given  to  ten  other  poor  fomilies  who 
had  been  most  re^rular  in  their  attendance  at  church  durinir  the 
same  period.  He  left  fifty  pounds  to  the  poor  of  the  parish 
where  he  had  married  his  "last  invaluable  wife."  To  two  of  his 
farm  tenants,  who  had  formerly  been  in  his  service,  he  left 
twenty  pounds ;  and  to  two  others,  who  were  widows,  ten 
fifuineas  each.  The  clerfrymen  whose  churches  he  had  at- 
tended,  the  Ikerary  men  who  had  assisted  him  in  the  composition 
of  his  works,  his  circle  of  private  friends,  —  all  were  remem- 
bered. For  the  release  of  poor  debtors  from  confinement  he 
left  fifty  pounds,  and  fift}^  more  to  be  distributed  among  other 
inmates  of  jails.  To  the  society  formed  through  him  for  the 
relief  of  prisoners  generall}^  he  bequeathed  five  hundred  pounds. 
The  bulk  of  his  estate,  according:  to  the  Encflish  custom,  he  left 
(in  trust)  to  his  son,  the  next  of  kin  to  inherit  in  case  his  son 
died  a  lunatic. 

These  legacies  may  seem  trifling  to  some  readers.  But  in 
England,  as  in  all  old  countries,  a  very  small  unexpected  ad- 
dition to  a  poor  man's  income  may  be   a  very  great  boon.     A 


71  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

small  legacy,  too,  has  this  advantage  :  if  it  does  not  do  great 
good,  it  cannot  do  much  harm.  It  were,  perhaps,  to  be  desired, 
that  rich  men,  in  making  their  wills,  would  distribute  their  for- 
tune more  widely  than  they  usually  do,  and  confer  a  certain 
blessing  upon  many,  rather  than  a  doubtful  good  upon  a  few. 

Before  leaving  England,  Ho  ward,  inquired  in  person  into  the 
circumstances  of  all  his  tenants,  and  made  such  changes  in  their 
leases  as  seemed  desirable  for  them.  His  old  servants  were  all 
put  into  a  way  of  securing  a  provision  for  their  old  age.  A 
guardian  was  appointed  for  his  son,  and  means  were  provided 
for  the  continuance  of  the  schools  which  he  had  established  upon 
his  estates,  which,  indeed,  tvere  continued  for  many  years  after 
his  death.  He  paid  every  debt,  to  the  uttermost  farthing.  All 
that  foresight  and  liberality  could  do  to  secure  the  permanent 
well-being  of  all  with  whom  he  was  connected,  was  done  by 
this  incomparable  man,  whose  only  aspiration  was  to  confer  the 
greatest  good  upon  the  greatest  number.  He  paid  farewell 
visits  to  his  friends,  and  when  they  endeavored  to  dissuade  him 
from  his  design,  he  would  say :  — 

"  If  I  live  to  return  from  this  journey,  I  promise  you  I  will 
spend  the  evening  of  my  life  at  home  among  my  neighbors. 
But  if  it  pleases  God  to  take  me  hence,  his  will  be  done.  Cairo 
is  as  near  heaven  as  Cardins^ton." 

Howard  w^as  strangely  averse  to  being  the  object  of  public 
applause,  and  this  aversion  increased  as  he  grew  older.  When 
he  had  been  last  abroad,  news  reached  him  that  a  number  of  his 
admirers  were  preparing  to  erect  a  monument  in  his  honor.  It 
is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  he  was  Jiorror-striclcen  at  the  in- 
telligence. He  wrote  immediately  to  England  to  say  that  if  the 
design  were  carried  out  he  should  be  ashamed  to  return  to  his 
country.  Nothing,  he  added,  that  his  worst  enemy  could  de- 
vise could  be  such  a  "  punishment "  to  him  as  the  erection  of 
the  proposed  monument,  and  he  wondered  his  friends  should 
not  have  known  him  better  than  to  sanction  such  a  project.  He 
declared  that  he  claimed  no  credit  for  anything  he  had  done, 
but  that  in  his  exertions  on  behalf  of  prisoners,  he  had  been 
merely  "riding  his  hobby-horse."  In  consequence  of  his  ur- 
gent entreaties,  the  scheme  was  given  up,  or  rather,  postponed 


JOHN  HOWARD;  75 

till  after  his  death,  when  the  nionunieiit  was  erected  in  St.  Paul's 
Church  in  London. 

On  the  eve  of  his  departure  from  England,  he  was  deter- 
mined that  no  biography  of  him  should  be  Avrittcn  after  his 
death.  He  destroyed  every  paper  and  letter  in  his  possession 
which  he  thought  might  be  used  as  material  for  such  a  work, 
and  he  extorted  a  solemn  promise  from  his  clergyman  that  when 
he  preached  his  funeral  sermon,  he  would  enter  into  no  bio- 
graphical details  respecting  him.  In  pursuance  of  the  same 
design  he  wrote  his  own  epitaph,  and  even  had  it  cut  upon  a 
tombstone,  leaving  blanks  for  the  insertion  of  the  place  and 
date  of  his  death.  It  contained  merely  his  name,  the  time  and 
phice  of  his  decease,  and  these  words  :  "Christ  is  my  hope." 

Jul}'  the  fourth,  1789,  being  then  sixty-two  years  of  age, 
How^ard  left  his  native  land,  which  he  was  destined  never  to 
look  upon  again. 

On  his  way  to  Kussia,  he  passed  through  parts  of  Holland, 
Hanover,  and  Germany,  revisiting  their  prisons,  and  was  often 
consoled  by  observing  that  his  previous  visits  had  produced 
alleviations  in  the  condition  of  their  inmates.  In  Russia  be 
continued  his  benevolent  labors  on  behalf  of  the  conscripts  and 
sick  soldiers,  and  disclosed  all  the  horrors  of  the  Eussian  mili- 
tary system  as  then  conducted.  He  reached  at  length  the  town 
of  Cherson,  in  Russian  Tartary,  wdiere  there w^as  avast  military 
hospital,  w^hich,  from  its  manifold  defects,  bred  as  much  disease 
as  it  cured. 

This  tow^n  w^as  full  of  gay  company,  attracted  to  the  place  by 
the  grand  fetes,  masquerade  balls,  and  theatrical  entertainments 
with  which  the  officers  were  celebrating  some  recent  triumphs 
of  the  Russian  arms.  The  hospital  fever  attacked  many  of  the 
visitors,  and  among  others  a  young  lady,  who  w^as  carried  to 
her  home,  twenty-four  miles  distant,  dangerously  sick  with  it. 

Howard,  meanwhile,  regardless  of  the  festive  scenes  around 
him,  and  equally  regardless  of  the  infection  that  pervaded  the 
air,  spent  laborious  days  in  visiting  the  sick,  both  within  and 
without  the  hospital,  administering  his  favorite  English  medi- 
cines. His  medical  skill  being  in  high  repute,  the  family  of 
the  young  lady  besought  him  to  visit  her,  as  all  the  remedies 


76        PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OE  BIOGRAPHY. 

usually  employed  had  failed  to  relieve  her,  and  her  coudition 
was  extremely  critical.  He  replied  that  he  made  no  pretensions 
to  medical  knowledge,  and  was  accustomed  to  visit  only  those 
who  were  too  poor  to  employ  a  physician.  Yielding,  however, 
to  their  entreaties,  he  went  to  see  her,  2:ave  her  some  medicine 
and  advice,  which  were  immediately  beneficial  and  seemed  al- 
most to  draw  her  back  from  an  open  grave.  On  leaving  the 
grateful  family,  he  told  them  to  send  for  him  again  if  she  con- 
tinued to  improve  ;  but  that  if  she  grew  worse  it  would  be  of  no 
use.  Soon  after  his  return  to  Cherson,  he  received  a  lettei 
saying  that  his  patient  was  better,  and  begging  him  to  visit  her 
again  and  complete  his  good  work.  On  looking  at  the  date  of 
this  letter,  he  was  alarmed  to  discover  that  it  had  been  eight 
days  in  coming. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  determined  to  2:0.  The  rain  was  fallino; 
in  torrents,  —  a  cold,  December  rain,  —  and  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing a  gale.  As  he  could  not,  without  much  delay,  procure  a 
vehicle,  he  mounted  an  old  dray  horse  and  rode  the  twenty-four 
miles  through  the  tempest.  He  arrived  to  find  his  patient  dy- 
ing. He  tried,  however,  some  powerful  medicines  upon  her, 
with  a  view  to  excite  perspiration;  and,  in  order  to  ascertain 
whether  they  were  producing  the  wished-for  efiect,  he  lifted  the 
bedclothes  and  felt  of  her  arm.  As  he  did  so,  the  effluvia  from 
her  body  was  so  offensive  that  he  could  scarcely  endure  it.  She 
died  soon  after,  and  he  returned  to  Cherson. 

Three  days  later  he  w^as  seized  with  the  same  fever.  The 
exhaustion  of  his  long  and  painful  ride,  and  the  shock  to  his 
feelings  at  finding  his  patient  in  the  agonies  of  death,  had  ren- 
dered his  system  liable  to  the  contagim,  which  had  struck  him, 
as  he  believed,  at  the  moment  of  his  lifting  the  bedclothes. 

From  the  first,  he  thought  the  attack  would  be  fatal,  though 
the  progress  of  the  disease  w^as  not  rapid,  nor  were  his  suffer- 
ings severe.  To  one  of  the  few  Englishmen  at  Cherson,  Ad- 
miral Priestman,  he  early  expressed  the  opinion  that  he  could 
not  recover. 

"  Priestman,"  said  he  to  this  friend  one  day,  "  you  style  this 
a  dull  conversation,  and  endeavor  to  divert  my  mind  from  dwell- 
ing on  these  things ;  but  I  entertain  very  ditferent  sentiments. 


JOHN    HOWARD.  77 

Death  lias  no  terrors  for  me ;  it  is  an  event  I  alwa3's  ](K)k  to 
Avitli  cliccrrulness,  if  not  Avilli  pleasure;  and,  be  assured,  the 
subject  is  more  grateful  to  nic  than  any  other.  I  am  Avell  aware 
that  I  have  but  a  short  time  to  live  ;  my  mode  ol'  life  has  ren- 
dered it  impossible  that  I  should  get  rid  of  this  fever.  If  I  had 
lived  as  you  do,  eating  heartily  of  animal  food  and  drinking 
wine,  I  might,  perhaps,  l)y  altering  my  diet,  be  able  to  subdue 
it.  But  how  can  a  man  snch  as  I  am  lower  his  diet,  who  has 
been  accustomed  for  years  to  exist  npon  vegetal)les  and  water, 
a  little  bread  and  a  little  tea?  I  have  no  method  of  lowerinf^- 
my  nourishment,  and,  therefore,  I  must  die.  It  is  such  joll}^ 
fellows  as  you,  Priestman,  who  get  over  these  fevers." 

He  then  turned  to  the  subject  of  his  funeral. 

"There  is  a  spot,"  said  he,  "near  the  village  of  Damphigny ; 
this  would  suit  me  niccl}^  You  know  it  well,  for  I  have  often 
said  I  should  like  to  be  buried  there ;  and  let  me  beg  of  you,  as 
you  value  your  old  friend,  not  to  suffer  any  pomp  to  be  used  at 
my  funeral ;  nor  any  monument,  nor  monumental  inscription 
whatsoever,  to  mark  where  I  am  laid ;  but  lay  me  quietly  in 
the  earth,  place  a  sun-dial  over  my  grave,  and  let  me  be  for- 
gotten." 

He  further  enjoined  that  he  should  not  be  buried  according  to 
the  ritual  of  the  Greek  Church,  nor  any  priest  of  that  church 
have  aught  to  do  with  his  remains. 

On  one  of  the  last  days  of  his  life  he  was  greatly  solaced  by 
a  letter  from  England,  which  informed  him  that  his  son's  con- 
dition appeared  to  be  improving.  Handing  the  letter  to  the 
admiral,  he  exclaimed:  — 

"  Is  not  this  comfort  for  a  dying  father?  " 

His  last  request  was,  not  to  be  buried  by  the  Greek  rite ;  and 
his  friend  promised  to  read  over  his  remains  the  burial  service 
of  the  Church  of  Ensjland. 

He  lingered  twenty  days  after  his  seizure,  the  fever  fits  be- 
coming constaiitly  more  severe.  On  the  morning  of  January 
20th,  1790,  he  breathed  his  last.  His  dying  injunctions  were 
obeyed,  and  his  remains  still  repose  in  that  distant  land. 

Howard  was  a  man  of  somewhat  short  statue,  and  rather  in- 
significant in  appearance,  though  of  alert  and  active  habit.     lu 


78  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

animated  conversation  his  eje  brightened,  his  face  lighted  up, 
and  his  words  carried  conviction  to  the  heart.  His  voice  was 
soft  and  winning,  and  there  was  that  indescribable  expression 
of  sweetness  and  benevolence  in  his  face  which  we  observe  in 
the  countenances  of  men  and  women  who  have  for  many  years 
entertained  benign  emotions  and  pure  thoughts.  His  abilities 
w^ere  not  splendid,  nor  his  knowledge  great.  His  glory  is  this  : 
that  although  exempted,  by  the  possession  of  an  ample  fortune, 
from  the  necessity  of  earning  his  livelihood,  he  did  not  choose 
to  pass  his  life  in  ease  and  self-indulgence,  but  found  work  to 
do,  and  did  it  wuth  the  energy  and  perseverance  with  which  an 
able  man  of  business  pursues  his  vocation.  In  so  doing,  he 
lived  happily,  wrought  great  good  to  the  lowest  of  his  species, 
and  left  to  the  highest  the  memory  of  a  sublime  career,  —  which 
is  the  most  precious  part  of  the  rich  and  vast  inheritance  which 
the  present  has  received  from  the  past. 


-BgT-a^Ted  Tay  J.C: Bii^tr  6 


^ 


MAJ.-GEN.  O.M.MITCHEL 


PROFESSOR    MITCHELL.  70 


HOW  PROFESSOR  MITCHELL  BUILT  HIS  OBSERVATORY. 


-K>«- 


VisiTOPtS  to  Cincinnati  are  snrpriscd  to  find  in  the  encliantinir 
environs  of  that  bnsy  city  an  astronomical  obsorvatoiy ,  provided 
with  a  costly  telescope  and  all  the  reqnisite  apparatus  for  ob- 
serving the  stars.  A  chemical  laboratory  or  a  school  of  engi- 
neers would  not  excite  astoni.shment ;  for  such  estaljlishments 
would  accord  with  the  industrial  character  of  the  place,  and  pro- 
mote the  acquisition  of  wealth.  Nor  are  we  surprised  at  the 
existence  of  libraries,  a  gallery  of  art,  and  the  beginning  of  a 
museum,  since  these  things  can  be  enjoyed  by  a  large  number 
of  the  people.  But  an  observatory,  which  so  few  can  use,  and 
the  results  of  which  so  few  can  appreciate,  is  something  which 
we  should  suppose  Cincinnati  would  have  been  disposed  to  Avait 
for  a  century  or  two  longer.  There  it  stands,  however,  ok 
a  lofty  hill  overlooking  the  city,  and  piercing  the  skies  it  is" 
designed  to  explore. 

The  observatory  resulted  from  the  zeal,  the  tact,  and  th« 
indomitable  perseverance  of  one  man,  the  late  Professor  O.  M 
Mitchell,  who  died  during  the  war,  a  general  in  the  service  of  the 
United  States.  The  Cincinnati  observatory  is  a  monument  to 
his  memory ;  and  there  is  nothing  in  the  annals  of  the  city  so 
curious  as  the  story  of  its  erection.  Probably  there  was  not 
in  the  world  another  man  who  could  have  accomplished  such  a 
task  in  such  a  place,  at  such  a  time,  and  in  the  face  of  so  many 
obstacles. 

A  poor  Kentucky  hoy,  born  in  1810,  he  attracted  notice  by 
bis  intelligence  and  vivacity,  and,  obtaining  an  appointment  to 
the  Military  Academy,  reached  West  Point  at  the  age  of  fifteen, 
with  a  knapsack  upon  his  back  and  twenty -five  cents  in  his  pocket. 
Graduating  with  honor  at  the  academy,  he  served  awhile  in  tho 


8G  PEOPLE'S      BOOl^:     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

army,  from  which,  while  still  a  young  man,  he  retired,  and  in 
1840  we  find  him  professor  of  astrononi}^  and  mathematics  in  the 
Cincinnati  College.  During  the  operations  about  to  be  related, 
he  performed  all  the  duties  of  his  professorship,  working  hard 
for  live  hours  every  day  at  the  college,  and  expending  as  much 
vitality  in  that  ^vq  hours'  work  as  most  men  have  to  expend 
in  all. 

The  first  thing  attempted  was  the  purchase  of  a  telescope, 
which  was  to  cost  nine  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  ;  and  the 
directors  were  resolved  not  to  raise  the  building  until  the  whole 
of  this  sum  had  been  collected  and  sent  on  its  w^ay  to  Europe. 
To  give  eclat  and  publicity  to  the  enterprise,  however,  the  cor- 
ner-stone of  the  edifice  w^as  laid  in  November,  1843,  by  John 
Quincy  Adams,  amid  a  great  concourse  of  people,  to  whom  he 
addressed  an  eloquent  oration  upon  the  charms  and  utilities  of 
science.  At  that  time,  although  the  whole  of  the  purchase 
money  for  the  instrument  had  been  subscribed,  only  three  thou- 
sand dollars  of  it  had  been  paid,  the  remainder  being  due  in 
Germany  in  the  following  June.  The  western  people  are  excel- 
lent subscribers  when  business  is  brisk ;  but  a  few  months,  or 
even  a  few  weeks,  at  that  day,  often  changed  the  prospects  of 
business  men ;  so  that  money  freely  subscribed  was  paid  slowly 
and  with  extreme  difficulty.  A  "low  stage  of  water"  in  the  rivers 
was  sufficient  of  itself  to  bring  business  almost  to  a  dead  halt, 
since  Cincinnati  could  neither  ofet  coal  for  her  steam-engines  nor 
iron  for  her  foundries,  nor  goods  for  her  customers.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  this  season  was  one  of  extreme  depression,  and  the 
collector  for  the  telescope  reported  that  the  subscribers  could 
not  pay,  and  that  it  was  a  mere  waste  of  time  to  call  upon  them. 
Professor  Mitchell,  whose  whole  soul  was  in  the  enterprise,  took 
the  afiiiir  into  his  own  hands,  and  went  systematically  into  the 
business  of  collecting  money. 

Every  day,  after  the  duties  of  his  professorship  were  per- 
formed, he  began  his  rounds.  Some  of  the  subscribers  could 
not  pay,  saw  no  prospect  of  being  able  to  pay,  and,  in  fact, 
repudiated  the  obligation  to  pay.  Such  were  stricken  off  the 
books,  and  new  subscribers  were  sought  to  make  up  the  defi- 
ciency.   Others  could  not  pay  then,  and  asked  delay.    The  pro- 


PROFESSOR    MITCHELL.  81 

fcssor  would  tiikc  out  his  book  and  cuter  the  day,  hour,  and  minute 
when  ho  woukl  call  again,  and,  though  the  time  was  in  some 
instances  four  months  distant,  he  never  failed  to  appear  at  the 
:i[)pointed  moment.  In  collecting  some  of  the  subscriptions,  he 
called  as  many  times  as  there  were  dollars  to  collect.  Some 
men  had  no  money,  but  could  pay  in  merchandise,  and  this  mer- 
chandise he  had  frequently  to  sell  for  other  merchandise,  and 
this  again,  until  four  or  five  barterings  had  occurred  before  the 
money  w^as  obtained.  In  the  course  of  seventy  days  the  sum 
of  three  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  was  obtained  and  paid 
over  to  the  treasurer,  leaving  three  thousand  dollars  still  to  be 
raised  for  the  instrument  alone.  Cincinnati  appeared  then  to 
have  been  drained  dry  of  mone}^  available  for  such  a  purpose, 
and  almost  any  man  but  Professor  Mitchell  would  have  given 
up  the  affair. 

The  indefatigable  professor  now  changed  his  tactics.  He 
drew  up  a  list  of  rich  men,  who  had  already  subscribed  liber- 
ally, and  placed  opposite  the  name  of  each  the  sum  of  money 
which  he  meant  to  get  from  him.  Eight  men  had  the  sum  of 
two  hundred  dollars  phiced  opposite  their  names  ;  ten  more  were 
put  down  for  one  hundred  dollars ;  twenty  for  fifty  dollars. 
With  this  list  in  his  hands,  Professor  Mitchell  renewed  his 
rounds  exhibiting  it  to  each  of  the  persons  in  turn.  One  of  the 
two-hundrcd-dollar  men  refused  absolutely  to  give  an3'thing,  and 
another  name  was  substituted.  Another  hesitated  awhile,  and 
then  offered  one  hundred  dollars  ;  but,  as  his  eye  glanced  down 
the  catalogue  once  more,  he  said  it  was  a  pity  to  spoil  so  beau- 
tiful a  scheme  for  so  small  a  sum,  and  handed  over  the  full 
amount.  One  or  two  of  the  fiftj'-dollar  men  were  tardy  in  pay- 
ing. With  these  exceptions,  the  programme  drawn  up  by  Pro- 
fessor Mitchell  was  carried  out ;  and  thus,  by  the  tenth  of  May, 
1843,  one  month  before  the  money  was  due  in  Europe,  the 
whole  amount  was  in  the  treasury,  except  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars.  AVhen  this  report  was  presented  to  the  directors,  they 
adjourned  a  w^eek  to  give  time  for  completing  the  sum  required. 
At  the  expiration  of  the  week,  the  professor  was  obliged  to  re- 
port that  there  was  still  a  deficiency  of  twenty-five  dollars ;  but 


82       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

in  the  course  of  that  day  this  sum  was  obtained,  and  the  pur- 
chase-money was  despatched  just  in  time  to  catch  the  steamer. 

But  a  telescope  of  that  magnitude  is  of  no  use  without  au 
tbservatory  on  which  to  mount  it.  The  building  of  the  observ- 
atory, which  would  cost  about  six  thousand  dollars,  was  the 
next  difficulty  which  the  professor  had  to  face,  and  he  set  about 
it  without  delay.  The  treasury  contained  not  one  dollar.  Two 
or  three  thousand  dollars  had  been  subscribed  toward  the 
building,  all  pa^^able  in  materials  and  labor  ;  but  cash  there  was 
none,  and  none  seemed  likely  to  be  forthcoming.  Nothing 
daunted,  the  professor  dvew  his  plans,  prepared  his  estimates, 
and  endeavored  to  induce  mechanics  to  contract  for  the  erection 
of  the  edifice.  No  mechanic  could  be  found  willing  to  under- 
take the  work,  without  some  more  substantial  guaranty  for 
payment  than  any  which  Professor  Mitchell  could  furnish.  No 
matter  ;  the  invincible  man  determined  to  be  his  own  contractor, 
as  well  as  architect. 

In  June,  1844,  about  the  time  the  purchase-money  for  the 
instrument  reached  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  he  hired  two 
masons  and  besfan  the  work.  These  two  men  could  have  built 
the  observatory  in  about  twenty  years,  and  the  edifice  had  to 
be  completed  in  exactly  one  year,  or  the  site  was  forfeit,  — 
the  «:round  havinof  been  o^iven  on  that  condition.  A  beofinnins: 
was  made,  however,  though  the  professor  had  no  more  money 
than  would  be  needed  for  the  wages  of  his  two  men  for  one 
week.  A  little  more  money  came  dribbling  in,  and,  as  soon 
as  it  seemed  safe,  another  man  was  added,  and  another,  and 
another.  Such  enthusiasm  as  his  is  contagious,  and  the  press- 
ing necessities  of  Saturday  night  added  new  force  to  his  solici- 
tations ;  and  still  the  work  went  on ;  and  still  the  number  of 
workmen  increased.  It  was  vacation  at  tbe  college,  and  the 
professor  was  thus  enabled  for  several  weeks  to  devote  his 
whole  time  to  the  business. 

Several  unexpected  difficulties  arose,  in  overcoming  which  he 
displayed  consummate  generalship.  Enormous  charges  were 
made  for  delivering  lime  at  the  summit  of  a  steep  hill,  four  or 
live  miles  from  the  city.  He  opened  a  lime-kiln  on  the  spot, 
which  soon  yielded  an  ample  supply.     Saul  had  to  be  drawn 


PROFESSOR  MITCHELL.  813 

from  a  great  distance,  and  at  great  expense.  lie  found  on  the 
side  of  his  hill  an  old  sand-pit,  long  ago  closed  from  the  danger 
of  nndcrmininu:  a  house  that  stood  above  it,  the  owner  of  which 
refused  point  blank  to  let  another  load  be  taken.  Professor 
Mitchell  mana2:ed  to  convince  him  that  a  little  more  sand  could 
be  removed  from  the  pit  without  danger  to  the  domicile,  and 
thus  a  supply  of  sand  was  obtained.  Water,  too,  had  to  bo 
drawn  from  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  half  a  mile  distant;  but  one 
day,  when  it  was  raining,  the  professor  dammed  up  a  ravine 
that  ran  from  the  top  of  the  hill  to  the  bottom,  and  in  an  hour 
or  two  he  had  a  fme  pond,  close  to  the  building,  that  never 
failed  to  afford  a  full  supply  of  water.  Ilis  teamsters,  he 
thought,  were  cheating  him,  both  by  overcharging  and  under- 
working, lie  bought  horses  and  carts,  and,  in  order  to  ascer- 
tain how  many  loads  could  be  fairly  drawn  in  a  day,  he  filled 
and  drove  one  of  the  carts  himself,  and  thus  fixed  the  amount 
of  sand  that  should  constitute  a  day's  work. 

When  he  was  obliged  to  resume  his  duties  at  the  college,  he 
passed  his  time  in  the  following  manner :  — 

At  seven  in  the  mornins:  he  was  out  amonsr  the  workmen  in 
the  quarry,  the  lime-kiln,  the  sand-pit,  and  the  building,  in- 
specting and  directing  till  eight,  when  the  college  bell  sum- 
moned him  to  his  first  class.  At  the  college  his  duties  detained 
him  till  one,  when  he  went  to  dinner.  From  two  o'clock  until 
the  close  of  the  day  he  was  in  the  city,  visiting  the  workshops 
where  work  for  the  observatory  w^as  going  on,  or  running  about 
among  the  counting-rooms,  raising  money  for  the  payment  of 
wages  on  Saturday  night.  One  man  would  give  him  a  little 
money.  Another  would  give  him  a  hundred  pork-barrels  or 
lard-kegs,  and  these  he  would  sell  to  the  pork-merchants  for 
cash.  A  carpenter  would  pay  his  subscription  in  doors  or 
sashes  ;  a  painter  would  contribute  his  quota  by  painting  them, 
and  a  glazier  by  putting  in  the  glass  ;  and,  finally,  another  car- 
penter would  discharge  his  subscription  by  hanging  the  doors 
and  fitting  in  the  windows.  Every  Monday,  the  professor 
obtained  a  list  of  all  the  articles  that  would  be  required  during 
the  week,  and  the  sum  of  money  that  would  be  wanted  on 
Saturday,  and  he  gave  himself  no  rest  till  these  were  secured. 


81  PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGEAPHY. 

There  were  times  when  he  had  a  hundred  men  at  work,  — fifty 
at  the  building,  and  fifty  at  the  shops ;  but  he  rose  to  the  oc- 
casion, and  never  failed  to  procure  the  supplies  for  the  week, 
both  in  merchandise  and  money.  Every  Saturday  night  all  the 
money  was  expended,  but  every  Monday  morning  the  work 
was   renewed  with  increased  vigor   and  equal  faith. 

In  three  months  the  roof  was  finished ;  in  three  more  the 
observatory  was  in  working  order,  without  one  dollar  of  debt 
upon  it.  Thus  it  was  that  Professor  Mitchell  built  his  observa- 
tory, aided  by  the  liberality  and  confidence  of  the  people  ot 
Cincinnati. 

For  sixteen  years  he  continued  to  enjoy  the  use  of  it,  and 
became,  in  consequence,  one  of  the  most  learned  and  accom- 
plished astronomers  of  the  age,  and  the  one  who  possessed  the 
greatest  ability  in  bringing  the  sublime  truths  of  the  science 
home  to  the  comprehension  of  the  general  public.  He  was  one 
of  the  early  victims  of  the  war.  Stationed  in  an  unhealthy 
district  of  the  South,  General  Mitchell  was  attacked  by  disease, 
and  died  before  he  had  rendered  his  country  the  seryice  which 
it  was  in  him  to  perform. 


DEACON    PARIS.    TUE    FANATIC.  8; 


DEACON   PARIS,  THE   FANATIC 


In  all  ages,  and  under  all  religions,  there  have  been  people 
who  have  thought  that  the  best  way  of  preparing  for  a  ])cltcr 
world  Avas  to  make  themselves  as  miserable  as  possible  in  this. 
So  thought  a  certain  Frenchman,  named  Francis  Paris,  a  most 
devout  Catholic,  who  lived  in  the  city  of  Paris  a  hundred  and 
sixty  3'cars  ago.  No  man  in  modern  times,  I  believe,  has  tor- 
mented himself  with  so  much  resolution  and  perseverance  as  he. 

Deacon  Paris,  born  in  Paris  in  1690,  was  the  eldest  son  of 
Nicholas  de  Paris,  a  man  of  the  highest  rank  in  the  profession 
of  the  law,  as  his  ancestors  had  been  for  two  hundred  years. 
He  expected  his  eldest  son,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  embrace 
the  same  vocation  and  inherit  his  business.  At  the  age  of  seven, 
the  boy,  according  to  the  French  custom,  was  placed  in  a  con- 
vent school,  where  he  was  noted  for  an  extreme  £:entleness  of 
manners,  an  excessive  timidity,  and  a  morbidly  tender  con- 
science. Timid  as  he  was,  he  was  once  concerned  in  a  freak  of 
the  boys,  to  set  the  school-house  on  fire.  They  heaped  up  straw 
in  the  fireplace,  set  it  on  fire,  and  ran  out  to  see  the  expected 
conflagration.  The  straw,  however,  burned  harmlessly  away 
up  the  chimney,  and  saved  the  monks  of  the  convent  the  ex- 
pense of  a  chimney-sweeper.  This  piece  of  boyish  folly  lay 
like  a  load  upon  his  conscience  for  many  years,  and  he  sought 
to  expiate  it  by  the  severest  penance.  Long  after  he  was  grown 
up  he  used  to  exclaim,  in  the  language  of  Job  :  "  Thou  writest 
against  me  bitter  things  ;  wouldst  thou  consume  me  for  the  sins 
of  my  youth  ?  " 

His  father  took  him  home  in  his  tenth  year,  and  gave  him  a 
private  tutor,  who  proved  to  be  a  violent  and  cruel  man.  One 
incident  will  serve  to  show  at  once  the  barbarity  of  the  teacher 


86  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

and  the  coweriDg  timidity  of  the  pupil.  The  wretch,  having 
beaten  the  child  until  he  was  covered  with  bruises,  and  knowing 
that  his  cruelty  would  be  discovered  as  soon  as  the  boy  should 
be  undressed,  induced  him  to  let  himself  fall  down  stairs,  iu 
order  that  his  bruises  should  seem  to  be  the  result  of  the  acci- 
dent. The  character  of  the  man  was  soon  after  revealed,  and 
he  was  replaced  by  better  teachers,  under  whom  the  gentle 
youth  made  rapid  improvement.  But  he  was  not  a  healthy- 
minded  boy  ;  like  the  poet  Percival,  he  liked  to  be  alone,  avoided 
the  sports  of  his  young  friends,  and  early  became  a  religious 
devotee.  "Even  on  Sundays,"  says  his  French  biographer,  "he 
took  no  pleasure  except  in  pious  exercises  and  in  prayers,  get- 
ting up  sometimes  long  before  daylight  to  prostrate  himself 
before  God,  his  eyes  wet  with  tears,  and  spending  a  long  time 
in  devotion."  At  the  same  time  he  was  abundant  in  charity. 
He  was  often  known  to  give  away  to  beggars  all  the  bread 
which  he  took  with  him  to  the  collesre  for  his  luncheon. 

In  France  it  has  been  the  custom,  for  many  centuries,  for  the 
eldest  son  to  be  brought  up  and  succeed  to  his  father's  business. 
This  is  the  case  even  with  such  occupations  as  blacksmith, 
butcher,  carpenter,  and  storekeeper  ;  and  the  more  remunerative 
the  vocation  is,  the  more  the  custom  prevails  in  it.  Nothing 
was  more  common  in  France  before  the  Revolution  (and  it  is 
not  uncommon  now)  than  businesses  which  had  descended  from 
father  to  son  for  a  century,  or  for  centuries.  When  a  man  has 
no  son  to  succeed  him,  he  often  looks  out  for  a  son-in-law,  to 
whom  he  can  marry  his  business,  and  thus,  by  one  stroke,  por- 
tion a  daughter  and  keep  his  business  in  the  family. 

Nicholas  de  Paris,  accordingl}^  intended  his  eldest  son  for  t* 
lawyer,  and  his  younger  for  a  soldier,  never  considering  whether 
or  not  those  professions  were  agreeable  or  suitable  to  them. 
The  decided  preference  of  his  eldest  son  was  to  enter  a  monas- 
tery ;  but  his  family  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  insisted  on  his 
beginning  the  study  of  the  law.  Being  still  under  age,  he  com- 
plied with  their  desire,  acquitted  himself  very  well  in  his  studies, 
and  passed  a  successful  examination.  To  distract  his  mind  from 
religion,  his  father  sent  him  to  a  riding-school  for  six  months, 
and  endeavored  in  other  ways  to  reconcile  him  to  the  world  and 


DEACON    PAIIIS,    THE     FANATIC.  87 

the  world's  habits.  But  nothing  availed.  When  he  was  twciity- 
onc  years  of  age,  and  had  ol)taiiicd  his  license  to  practise  law, 
he  declared  his  unalterable  determination  to  retire  to  a  cloister 
and  spend  his  days  iu  prayer  and  meditation.  His  father  abso- 
lutely refused  his  consent.  The  young  man  would  not  yield. 
After  a  long  and  violent  contention,  his  family  deemed  it  best 
to  let  him  try  for  a  while  the  life  of  a  recluse,  hoping  he  would 
soon  be  sickened  of  it ;  and  so  for  several  months  he  resided  in 
a  monastery,  practising  the  severest  austerities.  Alarmed  at 
his  long  absence,  his  father  summoned  him  home,  onl}^  to  find 
his  resolution  firmer  than  before.  The  family  renewed  their 
remonstrances  and  their  menaces.  They  dwelt  upon  the  certain 
wealth  and  high  rank  ^vhich  would  be  his  if  he  pursued  his 
father's  vocation,  and  threatened  him  with  tlie  loss  of  his  inher- 
itance if  he  persisted  in  a  religious  life.  Their  efibrts  were  all 
in  vain,  and,  at  length,  the  family  yielded  a  reluctant  consent, 
gave  him  a  moderate  pension,  and  installed  his  3'ounger  brother 
in  the  place  designed  for  the  elder.  His  father  dying  soon  after, 
he  received  only  a  younger  son^s  portion,  which  was  one-fourth 
of  his  father's  estate.  This  portion,  however,  was  four  times 
as  much  as  he  needed. 

His  first  care  was  to  disengage  himself  from  all  worldly  affaii'S 
and  ties.  Part  of  his  inheritance  was  a  great  mass  of  old  family 
silver-plate,  weighing  two  hundred  pounds.  This  he  sold,  and 
divided  the  proceeds  among  the  poor.  He  inherited  also  a 
quantity  of  linen  and  other  household  stuffs,  which  his  mother, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  had  accumulated.  The 
linen  he  gave  to  a  number  of  poor  priests  for  new  surplices,  and 
the  other  fabrics  he  divided  among  the  poor  families  of  his  par- 
ish. Some  barrels  of  salt  also  had  come  to  him,  salt  being  then 
an  expensive  article  ;  this  he  distributed  among  the  poor.  Hav- 
mg  thus  disposed  of  his  superfiuous  effects,  and  having  remained 
at  home  long  enough  to  see  his  younger  brother  married  and 
settled,  he  went  forth  to  begin  his  long-desired  life  of  entire 
consecration  to  rcli2:ion,  or  rather  what  he  thounht  to  be  reliijion. 

He  retired  to  a  village  near  Chartres,  hired  secluded  apart- 
ments, and  gave  himself  np  to  prayers,  study,  fasting,  and  self- 
torture.      All  day  he  remained  alone   in  his  room,  studying 


88  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Hebrew,  reading  theology,  and  praying.  He  "svore  a  hair  shiit 
next  his  skin,  and  fasted  on  all  the  appointed  days  most  rigor- 
ously, not  eating  a  morsel  of  food  till  sunset.  On  Sundays  he 
performed,  at  the  request  of  the  parish  priest,  the  humble  duty 
of  catechising  the  children.  In  winter  he  would  have  no  fire  in 
his  room,  and  when  the  cold  was  too  severe  to  be  borne,  he 
merely  covered  his  feet  with  a  hair-cloth. 

He  often  changed  his  place  of  abode,  but  never  his  habits, 
except  that  he  increased  the  severity  of  his  self-inflicted  tor- 
ments. Being  intrusted  by  his  parish  priest  w4th  the  charge  of 
the  young  candidates  for  the  priesthood,  he  led  them  to  practise 
such  extreme  self-denial  that  he  was  complained  of  to  the  arch- 
bishop, who  was  thus  made  acquainted  with  his  character.  In- 
stead of  reproving  his  ill-directed  zeal,  the  archbishop  desired 
to  reward  it  by  bestowing  upon  him  the  dignity  of  deacon,  and 
held  out  to  him  the  promise  of  still  further  advancement.  The 
zealot  deemed  himself  unworthy  of  the  honor,  and  long  refused 
it.  His  scruples  being  at  length  overcome,  he  was  ordained, 
and  thus  acquired  the  title  by  which  he  is  now  known.  Other 
ecclesiastical  honors,  though  they  were  often  pressed  upon  him, 
he  always  declined. 

As  he  advanced  in  life  his  austerities  increased,  and  he  re- 
solved at  last  to  retire  wholly  from  the  haunts  of  men.  Firsts 
he  travelled  on  foot  over  France,  seeking  some  monastery  con- 
genial to  him.  From  this  journey  he  extracted  all  the  misery 
it  could  be  made  to  yield,  pursuing  his  weary  way  through  all 
kinds  of  weather,  ill-clad,  half  starved,  and  lodging  in  the 
stables  of  the  poorest  inns.  But  in  all  his  wanderings  he  found 
no  retreat  that  promised  sufficient  severity,  and  he  returned  to 
Paris  to  contrive  one  for  himself.  There  he  withdrew  to  a  mean 
and  secluded  abode,  and  set  about  the  work  of  torturins:  him- 
self  to  death  with  renewed  visfor. 

It  was  his  habit  now  to  fast  during  the  whole  forty  days  of 
Lent  as  rigorously  as  he  had  been  used  to  fast  on  single  days, 
never  eating  until  sunset,  and  then  only  bread  and  water,  nor 
much  of  them.  Toward  the  close  of  the  forty  days  he  suffered 
as  much  as  his  heart  could  wish.  He  w^ould  sometimes  fall  into 
convulsions,  and  endured  horrid  pangs  and  spasms,  which  ha 


DEACON    TAKIS,    THE    FANATIC.  QQ 

atti'i])utecl  to  the  efforts  of  the  devil  to  shake  his  purpose.  IIo 
slept  upon  n  straw  mattress,  except  in  seasons  of  penitence, 
when  he  preferred  the  lloor.  He  had  in  his  little  room,  a  ta])le, 
one  chair,  no  lireplace,  and  he  ate  nothing  but  ])read,  water- 
cress, and  other  raw  herbs,  with  the  occasional  luxury  of  a 
hard-boiled  egg  or  a  plate  of  thin  soup,  sent  in  to  him  by  his 
landlord,  a  poor  lace-maker.  To  still  further  mortify  himself, 
he  bought  a  stocking-frame,  and  earned  his  livelihood  by  mak- 
ing stockings,  concealing  from  his  fellow-lodgers  that  he  pos- 
sessed an  independent  income.  Ilis  landlord,  for  a  considerable 
time,  supposed  he  was  a  poor  stocking- weaver,  and  it  was  iu 
compassion  for  his  poverty  that  he  sent  him  in  the  soup. 

Having  exhausted,  at  length,  all  the  usual  modes  of  self-sac- 
rifice, he  hit  upon  a  new  one.  He  resolved  to  deny  himself  the 
consolations  of  religion  itself !  For  two  years  he  abstained  from 
taking  the  communion,  alleging  that  he  was  imworth}- ;  and  it 
was  only  at  the  express  command  of  his  ecclesiastical  superiors 
that  he  again  partook  of  it.  Frustrated  iu  this  design  of  tor- 
menting his  soul,  he  aggravated  the  tortures  of  his  body,  sa^^ing 
that,  as  every  part  of  his  body,  within  and  without,  was  sinful, 
it  was  necessary  that  every  part  of  it  should  suffer,  and  suffer 
severely.  Now  it  was  that  he  added  to  his  shirt  of  coarsest 
hair  a  girdle  of  iron,  and  to  that  a  breastplate  of  iron  wire  in 
the  form  of  a  heart,  with  points  of  wire  on  the  side  next  his 
flesh  ;  so  that,  when  in  his  penitential  frenzies  he  beat  his  breast 
wdth  his  hands,  the  blood  flowed. 

The  poor  man  persevered  in  this  suicidal  course  till  he  brought 
himself  to  death's  door.  When  he  lay  helpless  upon  his  straw, 
his  friends  gathered  round  him  and  strove  to  alleviate  his  con- 
dition. He  steadflrstly  refused  their  offers,  and  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  all  remonstrance,  blaming  himself  only  for  not  having 
concealed  his  suflerings,  and  saying  that  if  he  recovered  his 
health  he  must  "  serve  God  "  more  faithfully  than  he  had  done 
before.  He  died  aged  thirty-seven,  and  was  buried  in  a  ceme- 
tery of  his  native  city.  He  died  of  self-mortification,  at  about 
the  age  when  many  young  men  die  of  self-indulgence,  —  a 
meaner  and  madder  kind  of  suicide  than  his. 

It  w^as  not  till  after  his  death  that  the  events  occurred  which 


90  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

have  caased  this  poor  man  to  be  so  long  remembered.  The 
ignorant  people  of  Paris,  hearing  of  the  manner  of  his  life  and 
death,  regarded  him  as  a  most  eminent  saint,  and  looked  upon 
his  burial-place  as  holy  ground.  An  old  lady,  long  diseased 
and  given  up  by  the  doctors,  repaired  thither  to  pray  for  her 
restoration  to  health.  She  declared,  and  her  friends  de- 
clared, that  her  pra^^ers  were  answered.  Then  arose  a  furore 
for  praying  at  the  tomb  of  Deacon  Paris,  until,  from  morning 
till  night,  the  cemetery  was  filled  Avith  kneeling  supplicants. 
Sick  people  were  brought  from  remote  provinces  to  pray  at  this 
tomb  for  their  recovery.  Hundreds  of  miraculous  cures  were 
said  to  be  performed,  a  huge  volume  of  which,  attested  by  affi- 
davits, is  still  to  be  found  in  old  French  libraries.  Such  w\as 
the  concourse,  and  such  the  extravagance  of  some  of  the 
supplicants,  that  the  king  at  length  interfered,  ordered  the  ceme- 
tery to  be  closed,  and  forbade  any  assemblage  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

The  recent  exploits  in  Paris  of  a  noted  spiritualist  have  had 
the  effect  of  revivins:  an  interest  in  similar  "  manifestations  "  in 
past  ages.  Among  other  works  on  this  class  of  subjects,  re- 
cently issued  in  Paris,  there  is  a  stout  volume  upon  Deacon 
Paris  and  the  miracles  said  to  have  been  wrousfht  at  his  tomb. 
From  this  curious  book  I  have  derived  the  incidents  related 
above. 

Among  the  young  men  about  Paris  who  witnessed  the  extrav- 
agant scenes  enacted  at  this  famous  tomb,  was  a  poet  and  dram- 
atist, named  Yoltaire.  You  may  be  sure  that  this  remarkable 
young  man  had  his  own  reflections  upon  what  he  saw  there,  and 
turned  them  to  account  in  his  subsequent  warfiire  with  the 
priesthood. 

I  once  asked  an  eminent  judge  of  the  city  of  New  York  what 
he  had  learned  by  sitting  thirty  years  upon  the  bench.  He 
answered  thus  :  — 

"The  difficulty  of  arriving  at  truth  through  human  testimony." 

A  catalogue  of  th(;se  miracles,  in  three  volumes  folio,  was 
published  by  a  respectable  priest,  each  miracle  being  supported 
by  sworn  testimony,  taken  before  notaries  and  certified  in  proper 
form.     This  testimony  is  of  such  a  nature,  and  is  so  abundant  in 


DEACON    TARIS,     THE    FANATIC.  91 

quantity,  that  it  would  convince  a  jury,  as  tlio  learned  judge  him- 
self "would  charge.  To  illustrate  the  fallil)ility  of  human  evi- 
dence, I  will  give  a  few  examples  drawn  from  the  ponderous 
work  to  which  I  have  referred. 

Deacon  Paris  died  on  the  first  of  May,  1727.  A  woman, 
aged  sixty-two,  had  met  and  exchanged  civilities  with  the  holy 
man.  For  many  years  she  had  had  a  withered  arm,  which  was 
so  useless  that  she  was  accustomed  to  hans:  it  in  a  slinij,  while 
she  exercised  her  vocation  of  silk-winder.  Ilearini]:  of  the  death 
of  the  venerated  deacon,  she  determined  to  attend  his  funeral 
and  to  pray  at  his  grave  for  the  restoration  of  her  arm.  Enter- 
ing the  apartment  where  lay  the  emaciated  body  prepared  for 
the  tomb,  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  lifted  the  cloth  which  covered 
the  feet,  and  kissed  them,  saying,  — 

"Blessed  saint,  pray  the  Lord  to  cure  me,  if  it  is  his  will  that 
I  remain  upon  earth.  Your  prayers  will  be  heard ;  mine  are 
not." 

AVhen  the  body  was  placed  upon  the  bier,  she  leaned  forward 
and  rubbed  her  arm  Avith  the  pall.  Having  seen  the  corpse  de- 
posited in  the  tomb,  she  returned  to  her  house  and  resumed  her 
usual  employment.  What  was  her  astonishment  to  discover  that 
she  had  no  longer  any  need  of  her  sling,  and  could  use  one  arm 
with  the  same  facility  as  the  other.  The  withered  member  had 
regained  its  former  roundness  and  vigor,  and  she  could  lift  with 
it  as  much  as  ever  she  could ;  nor  had  she  ever  after  any  return 
of  the  malady.  The  narrative  of  her  cure,  which  she  made 
on  oath  before  a  notary,  is  full  and  particular,  and  has  every 
appearance  of  having  been  given  in  good  faith. 

The  f[ime  of  this  miracle  being  spread  abroad,  other  afflicted 
persons  resorted  to  the  tomb  to  avail  themselves  of  its  mysteri- 
ous virtues.  A  Spanish  nobleman,  member  of  the  Royal  Coun- 
cil of  Spain,  had  sent  his  son  to  Paris  to  complete  his  education. 
This  young  man,  by  a  succession  of  accidents,  lost  the  use  of  one 
of  his  eyes,  and  finally  the  eye  itself  oozed  away.  The  doctors 
having  abandoned  his  case  in  despair,  he  repaired  to  the  tomb 
of  Deacon  Paris,  and  there  prayed  most  fervently  for  the  resto- 
ration of  his  eye.  Ilis  cure,  though  not  sudden,  was  complete. 
He  placed  upon  his  eye  a  small  piece  of  the  shirt  in  which  the 


92  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

deacon  had  died,  and  instantly  felt  some  relief.  That  evening, 
upon  going  to  sleep,  he  again  placed  the  relic  over  his  eye.  "In 
the  silence  and  secrecy  of  the  night,"  says  our  chronicler,  "the 
cure  began,  and  when  the  young  man  woke,  at  three  in  the 
morning,  his  eye  was  perfectly  restored,  for  he  could  see  through 
the  window  of  his  room  the  houses  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street."  He  rose  joyful  from  his  bed,  threw  off  his  bandages, 
and  hastened  to  the  tomb  to  return  thanks  to  God. 

Not  only  is  this  miraculous  cure  supported  by  an  abundance 
of  sworn  testimony,  but  I  have  before  me  a  letter,  written  by 
Charles  Rollin,  the  celebrated  historian,  in  which  he  expresses 
his  entire  belief  in  the  miracle.     Dr.  Eollin  says  :  — 

"I  saw  the  sad  condition  to  which  Don  Alphonse  was  reduced 
by  the  loss  of  one  eye,  and  the  malady  of  the  other,  and  I  was 
agreeably  surprised  to  see  the  sudden  and  perfect  change  which 
occurred  in  it,  Avhen  every  one  despaired  of  its  cure.  This  tes- 
timony I  render  with  joy  to  the  singular  grace  which  God  has 
shown  to  a  young  man,  whom  I  loved  the  more  tenderly  be- 
cause Providence  himself  seemed  to  have  consigned  him  to  my 
care." 

The  reader  must  make  what  he  can  of  this  story.  The  won- 
der is,  not  that  a  miracle  should  have  been  supposed  to  be  per- 
formed, but  that  a  man  like  Rollin  should  have  believed  it. 

Several  volumes  could  be  filled  with  similar  narratives,  soma 
of  which  are  more  wonderful  and  incredible  even  than  this. 
There  was,  for  example,  an  old  lady  of  sixty-nine,  swollen  to  a 
monstrous  size  by  dropsy,  covered  with  ulcers,  an  object  of 
horror  to  every  beholder.  There  are  one  hundred  pages  of 
testimony,  much  of  it  given  by  surgeons  of  reputation,  to  the 
effect  that  this  woman  was  instantly  and  completely  cured  by 
praying  upon  the  tomb  of  Deacon  Paris.  Many  persons  born 
hump-backed,  and  otherwise  distorted,  left  the  tomb  walking 
erectly,  and  with  vivacity  more  than  usual. 

As  the  celebrity  of  the  tomb  increased,  the  concourse  of  the 
sick,  the  lame,  the  halt,  the  blind,  and  the  dumb,  became  such 
as  to  incommode  the  neighborhood.  The  whole  cemetery  and 
the  neighboring  streets  were  crowded  with  women  and  men  of 
all  ages,  and  afllicted  with  all  maladies.     Here,  were  seen  men 


DEACON    PARIS,     THE    FANATIC.  93 

writhing  upon  the  ground  in  epileptic  fits  ;  there,  were  others  in 
a  kind  of  convulsive  ccstac\',  swallowing  pebbles,  earth,  pieces 
of  glass,  and  even  burning  coals  !  Yonder,  were  women  beside 
theniselvTS,  standing  upon  their  heads,  while  other  women,  pros- 
trate upon  the  earth,  called  upon  the  bystanders  to  relieve  their 
agony  by  striking  them  heavy  blows  upon  the  liody.  Some 
women  danced,  others  leaped  into  the  air,  others  twisted  their 
bodies  in  a  thousand  extravagant  ways,  others  assumed  postures 
designed  to  represent  scenes  in  the  passion  of  our  Saviour.  Some 
of  them  sang,  others  groaned,  grunted,  barked,  mewed,  hissed, 
declaimed,  prophesied.  The  dancing,  conducted  by  a  priest, 
was  the  favorite  exercise,  and  many  of  the  lame,  it  is  said,  who 
had  not  stood  upon  their  feet  for  years,  found  themselves  able 
to  join  in  it  with  great  activit3^ 

Scenes  of  this  nature  were  daily  exhibited  in  the  cemeter}'  for 
the  space  of  five  years.  At  the  end  of  that  period  the  extrava- 
gance had  risen  to  such  a  height  that  both  the  church  and  the 
kingdom  were  scandalized  at  it.  The  king  then  interfered,  and 
published  an  edict  which  ordered  the  cemetery  to  be  closed, 
and  forbade  assemblages  of  people  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  morning  after  this  edict  appeared,  one  of  the  wits  of 
Paris  wrote  upon  the  gate  of  the  cemetery  the  following :  — 

"  By  Order  of  the  Kjxg  :  God  is  forbidden  to  perform 
miracles  in  this  place." 

But  the  madness  continued.  The  earth  of  the  cemetery,  and 
the  water  of  a  well  near  by,  were  conveyed  to  private  apart- 
ments, and  there  the  miracles  were  renewed.  In  all  the  history 
of  human  folly  there  is  nothing  so  extravagant  as  the  scenes 
which  now  occurred.  It  became  the  custom  for  the  sick  to  fall 
into  the  most  violent  convulsions,  during  which  they  were  sub- 
jected to  treatment  still  more  violent.  One  or  two  examples 
out  of  a  thousand  will  suffice.  A  young  girl  of  seventeen,  af- 
flicted with  a  chronic  disease,  was  laid  upon  the  floor.  Twenty- 
three  grown  persons  placed  one  of  their  feet  upon  her  body  and 
pressed  w^ith  all  their  force  upon  it,  —  an  operation  which,  as 
she  said,  gave  her  the  most  exquisite  delight,  and  cflocted  a  total 


94  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

cure.  Other  women,  stretched  upon  the  floor  in  convulsions, 
were  beaten  with  an  oaken  club  on  every  part  of  the  body,  and 
with  all  the  force  of  a  strong  man,  — to  their  great  joy  and  last- 
ing relief.  A  Avitness  swears  that  he  saw  one  poor  woman 
receive,  without  harm,  two  thousand  blows,  any  one  of  which 
would  have  felled  an  ox !  Other  witnesses  testify  that  five 
strong  men  endeavored  to  thrust  a  sword  into  the  body  of  one 
of  the  convulsed,  but  could  not.  Sometimes  swords  were  thrust 
into  the  body,  but  the  wound  immediately  healed  without  leav- 
ing a  scar.  One  woman  received,  in  one  night,  thirty  thousand 
blows  of  the  fist  from  relays  of  strong  men  ;  another  was  beaten 
for  fifty-five  minutes  with  a  huge  oaken  club,  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  blows  a  minute,  without  incurring  the  slightest  harm.  All 
of  which  is  supported  by  a  superabundance  of  sworn,  positive, 
and  detailed  testimony. 

The  climax  of  this  impious  and  disgusting  foil}"  was  reached 
when  they  began  to  parody  the  crucifixion.  The  following  ac- 
count of  one  of  these  scenes  rests  upon  an  amount  of  evidence 
which  would  convict  a  man  of  murder  before  any  of  our  courts. 
If  the  jury  believed  half  the  witnesses,  they  would  be  compelled 
to  convict.  A  woman  called  Sister  Francis,  aged  fifty-five,  who 
had  been  subject  to  the  convulsions  for  twenty-seven  years,  was 
crucified  three  times.  On  the  last  occasion,  the  ceremony  be- 
gan at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  by  stretching  her  upon  a 
cross  in  the  ordinary  form,  laid  upon  the  floor.  A  priest  drove 
a  nail  through  the  palm  of  her  left  hand  into  the  wood  of  the 
cross,  and  then  let  her  alone  for  two  minutes.  Then,  pouring 
a  little  water  upon  the  right  hand,  he  nailed  that  to  the  cross. 
The  woman,  who  was  in  a  convulsion,  appeared  to  sufter  se- 
verely, though  she  neither  sighed  nor  groaned  ;  her  flushed  face 
alone  indicating  anguish.  Thus  she  remained  for  twenty-eight 
minutes  (these  chroniclers  are  very  exact) ,  at  the  end  of  which 
time  they  nailed  her  two  feet  to  a  shelf  upon  the  cross.  The 
nails,  we  are  informed,  were  square  in  shape,  and  six  inches 
long.  No  blood  flowed  from  any  of  these  vrounds,  except  a  very 
little  from  one  of  her  feet. 

Having  thus  completed  the  nailing,  they  let  her  remain  fifteen 
minutes  longer,  and  then  gradually  raised  one  end  of  the  cross, 


DEACON    PAKIS,     THE    FANATIC.  95 

supporting  it  llrst  upon  a  chair,  and  finally  leaning  it  againit  the 
wall.  Ilorc  it  was  allowed  to  remain  for  hall"  an  hour,  durin" 
which  they  read  a  chapter  from  the  gospel  of  St.  John,  Avliich 
the  woman  appeared  to  imderstand  and  enjo}'.  Xext,  they 
placed  upon  her  head  a  crown  of  sharp  iron  wires,  to  represent 
the  crown  of  thorns.  She  was  nailed  to  the  cross  for  thi-eo 
hours,  and  then  the  nails  were  gradually  drawn  out,  whicli  ap- 
peared to  cause  her  nuich  suflering.  "  One  of  the  nails,'"'  says 
the  narrator,  "/jj)?^^  in  my  j)ocket^  and  I  have  it  now.'"  The 
hands  of  the  woman  bled  profusely  ;  but,  when  they  had  been 
washed  with  a  little  water,  she  aro::e,  warmly  eml)raced  one  of 
her  friends,  and  appeared  to  have  undergone  little  injur}-.  The 
wounds  were  rubbed  with  a  small  cross,  which  had  been  sancti- 
fied at  the  tomb  of  Deacon  Paris,  and  they  immediately  closed. 

This  story  is  related  at  such  length,  and  is  supported  by  such 
a  number  of  affidavits,  that  it  occupies  nearly  one  hundred  folio 
pages. 

The  delusion  lasted  from  1727  until  1755, — twenty -seven 
years,  —  and  it  was  one  of  the  many  causes  that  led  the  edu- 
cated portion  of  the  people  of  Paris  to  reject  all  religion,  as 
something  false,  ridiculous,  and  pernicious,  as  something  fit  only 
for  the  most  ignorant  of  mankind.  The  writings  of  the  "phi- 
losophers," so  called,  who  looked  up  to  Yoltaire  as  their  master, 
contain  many  allusions  to  the  extravagant  folly  ard  outrageous 
falsehood  perpetrated  by  the  admirers  of  Deacon  Paris. 


!)G        PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 


BLAISE   PASCAL. 


-♦o^ 


Pascal,  in  his  life  of  thirty-nine  years,  did  three  remarkable 
things:  1.  He  produced  a  book,  "The  Thoughts  of  Pascal," 
which,  after  existing  two  hundred  years,  is  as  highly,  though 
not  as  generally,  esteemed  as  it  was  when  it  was  first  published  ; 
2.  He  invented  the  arithmetical  calculating  machine,  since  im- 
proved by  Babbage ;  3.  He  originated  the  omnibus  system, 
which  has  become  a  feature  of  all  cities.  Few  persons  are 
aAvare,  that  when  they  ride  in  an  omnibus,  they  are  enjoying 
the  result  of  one  of  the  "  Thoughts  of  Pascal."  It  is  as  though 
Ralph  "Waldo  Emerson  should  invent  a  patent  nut-cracker ;  or 
as  though  Mr.  Hoe  should  write  a  treatise  upon  the  Evidences 
of  Christianitv.  But  when  Heaven  endows  a  man  with  an 
acute,  ingenious  mind,  there  is  no  telling  what  may  not  come 
from  it. 

Pascal,  the  only  son  of  an  able  and  distinguished  lawyer, 
was  born  in  Clermont,  in  France,  in  1623.  He  had  two  sisters, 
who  were  women  of  singular  beauty  and  intelligence,  and  the 
whole  family  —  father,  mother,  son,  and  daughters  —  were 
persons  of  eminent  gifts  of  mind,  heart,  and  person.  Neverthe- 
less, so  deeply  sunk  in  superstition  was  the  France  of  that  day, 
that  even  this  family,  among  the  most  able  and  enlightened  of 
their  time,  did  not  escape  it,  but  were  a  prey  to  the  most  pre- 
posterous beliefs. 

When  the  boy  was  a  year  old  he  was  observed  to  resent,  in 
the  most  violent  manner,  any  caresses  which  his  parents  ex- 
changed. Either  of  them  might  kiss  him  in  welcome,  but  if 
they  kissed  one  another,  he  cried,  kicked,  and  made  a  terrible 
ado.  He  had  also  the  peculiarity  (not  very  rare  among  chil- 
dren) of  making  a  gi-eat  outcry  whenever  a  basin  of  water  was 


BLAISE     PASCAL.  \j 


i 


brought  near  him.  "  Every  one,"  writes  an  inmate  and  relative 
of  the  family,  "said  the  child  Avas  bewitched  hy  an  old  woman 
>vho  was  in  the  habit  of  receiving  alms  from  the  honse."  For 
some  time  the  father  disregarded  this  explanation  of  the  mys- 
tery, bnt,  at  length,  he  called  the  woman  into  his  office,  and 
chariied  her  with  the  crime  of  bewitchini?  the  child,  — a  crime 
then  punished  with  death  upon  the  gallows,  or  at  the  stake. 
She  denied  the  accusation ;  but,  when  the  father,  assuming  a 
severe  countenance,  threatened  to  inform  against  her  unless  she 
confessed,  the  terrified  woman,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
fell  upon  her  knees,  and  said  that  if  her  life  was  spared  she 
would  tell  all.  She  then  avowed,  that  in  revenge  for  his  hav- 
ing refused  to  advocate  her  cause  in  a  lawsuit,  she  had  laid  his 
child  under  an  infernal  spell,  and  the  devil,  to  whom  she  had 
sold  herself,  had  engaged  to  kill  it. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  terror-stricken  parent,  "  must  my  sou 
die,  then?" 

"No,"  said  she,  "there  is  a  remedy.  The  sorcery  can  be 
transferred  to  another  creature." 

"Alas  !  "  cried  the  father,  "I  would  rather  my  son  should  die, 
than  that  another  should  die  for  him." 

"But  the  spell  can  be  transferred  to  a  beast,"  said  she. 

"I  will  give  you  a  horse  for  the  purpose,"  rejoined  the 
father. 

"  No,"  replied  the  woman,  "  that  will  be  too  expensive  ;  a  cat 
will  do." 

So  he  gave  her  a  cat.  Taking  the  cat  in  her  arms  she  went 
downstairs,  and  met  on  the  way  two  priests  who  were  coming 
to  console  the  family  in  their  affliction.  One  of  them  said  to 
her;  — 

"  So  you  are  going  to  commit  another  sorcery  with  that  cat." 

Hearing  these  words,  she  threw  the  cat  out  of  a  window,  and 
although  the  window  was  only  six  feet  above  the  ground,  the 
cat  fell  dead. 

Here  was  another  awful  portent,  which  threw^  the  family  mto 
new  consternation.  The  father  provided  her  with  anoth(>r  cat, 
with  which  she  went  her  way.  AVhat  she  did  with  the  unfortu- 
nate animal  does  not  appear,  but  she  returned  in  the  evening, 


98  PEOPLE'S      BOOK      OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

and  said  that  at  sunrise  the  next  morning,  she  must  have  a  child 
seven  jears  old,  who  must  gather  nine  leaves  of  three  kinds  of 
herbs,  which  must  be  steeped  and  laid  upon  the  child's  stom- 
ach ;  all  of  which  was  done  by  seven  the  next  morning,  and  the 
father,  relieved  in  mind,  went  to  court  and  plead  his  causes  as 
usual.  Keturning  home  to  dinner  at  noon,  he  found  the  whole 
house  in  tears  gathered  round  the  child,  who  lay  in  his  cradle 
as  if  dead.  Overwhehued  with  grief  and  rage,  he  turned  to 
leave  the  room,  and  meeting  the  "  witch  "  upon  the  threshold, 
he  gave  her  such  a  tremendous  box  upon  the  ear  as  to  knock  her 
downstairs.     When  she  got  up  she  stammered  out, — 

"  I  see  you  are  angry,  sir,  because  you  think  your  son  is  dead  ; 
but  I  forgot  to  tell  you  in  the  morning  that  he  will  appear  dead 
until  midnight.  Leave  him  in  his  cradle  till  that  hour,  and  he 
will  come  to  life  again." 

The  child  lay  without  pulse  or  any  sign  of  life,  watched  with 
agonizing  solicitude  by  his  parents,  until  twenty  minutes  to  one, 
when  he  bes^an  to  vawn,  and  was  soon  takinsr  nourishment  in 
the  usual  way.  In  a  few  days  he  .recovered  his  health,  and  one 
morninor  when  his  father  returned  from  mass  he  was  deliofhted 
to  see  the  boy  actually  playing  with  the  harmless  fluid  which  he 
had  formerly  abhorred.  Soon  after,  too,  he  would  permit  his 
parents  to  caress  one  another  without  showing  any  marks  of 
displeasure. 

All  of  this,  reader,  is  related  with  the  utmost  fulness  of  de- 
tail, and  with  unquestionable  sincerity;  not  by  an  ignorant 
person  of  ignorant  persons,  but  by  a  highly  educated  lady  of 
one  of  the  most  accomplislied  and  learned  families  in  France. 
AYho  will  say  the  world  has  not  advanced  during  the  last  two 
centuries  ? 

This  credulous  and  learned  fither,  being  released  from  the 
cares  of  business  when  the  boy  was  eight  years  old,  removed 
to  Paris,  and  resolved  to  devote  himself  entirely  to  educating  his 
son,  who  already  exhibited  all  the  usual  signs  of  a  superior  un- 
derstanding. His  chief  care  was  to  keep  the  boy  backward  in 
his  studies.  His  maxim  was,  that  a  pupil  should  be  always 
beyond  his  work,  not  the  work  beyond  the  pupil.  The  imma- 
turo  mind,  he  thought,  should  never  he  required  to  struggle 


BLAISE    PASCAL.  f)9 

with  a  lesson,  and  should  be  set  only  such  tasks  as  it  can  per- 
form with  moderate  exertion  and  constant  joy.  He,  tlicrofore, 
let  him  begin  Latin  only  in  his  twelfth  year,  and  intended  to 
confine  him  to  that  lanii^uaii^e  until  he  had  mastered  it.  Es- 
pecially  was  he  solicitous  to  prevent  his  becoming  interested  in 
mathematics,  his  owni  favorite  studv,  and  one  in  which  he  ex- 
celled  most  men  of  his  country-.  A  kind  of  club  of  geometers 
met  at  the  Pascal  home  every  week,  and  there  was  continued 
conversation  npon  problems  of  geometry  at  the  table  in  the 
evening.  To  thwart  the  awakened  curiosity  of  his  son,  the 
father  abstained  from  such  conversation,  locked  up  all  the  math- 
ematical books,  and  endeavored  in  every  way  to  keep  the  boy 
»    from  so   much  as  knowing  what  geometry  was. 

These  precautions  were  unavailing.  The  inkling  of  knowl- 
edge, which  the  lad  could  not  but  gather  in  such  a  house,  so 
inflamed  his  desire  for  more,  that  he  employed  his  leisure  in 
contriving  a  system  of  geometry  for  himself,  aided  only  by  a 
piece  of  charcoal  and  some  boards.  His  father,  coming  into  his 
room  one  day,  found  him  so  deeply  absorbed  in  this  pursuit 
that  the  boy  heard  nothing  of  his  approach,  but  continued  por- 
insr  over  his  trianc^les  and  circles  until  he  was  startled  into  con- 
sciousness  by  hearing  his  father  ask  :  — 

"What  are  you  doing,  my  son?" 

Father  and  son  were  equally  moved,  —  the  son  to  be  detected 
in  devouring  forbidden  fruit,  the  father  to  discover  that  this 
youth  of  thirteen  had  efljected  a  demonstration  of  the  thirty- 
second  proposition  of  the  first  book  of  Euclid.  AVithout  know- 
ing even  the  names  of  the  figures,  he  had  advanced  so  far.  He 
c'illed  a  circle  a  "round,"  and  a  line  a  "bar,"  but  he  understood 
fhe  rudimental  principles  of  the  science.  The  father  was  so 
overcome  with  wonder  and  admiration  that  he  rushed  to  the 
house  of  one  of  his  mathematical  friends,  and,  bursting  into  his 
room,  stood  unable  to  utter  a  word,  while  tears  rolled  down  his 
checks.  His  friend,  supposing  some  great  calamity  had  hap- 
pened, entreated  him  not  to  conceal  the  cause  of  his  grief. 

"It  is  not,"  said  M.  Pascal,  "from  grief,  but  from  joy,  that 
I  shed  tears." 

He  then  related  what  he  had  discovered.     His  friend  urged 


100  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OP     BIOGRAPHY. 

him  to  interpose  no  further  obstacles  to  his  sou's  learning  math- 
ematics, and  the  youth  was  at  once  provided  with  a  Euclid  and 
the  requisite  instruments.  "We  are  assured  by  one  of  Pascal's 
sisters  that  he  demonstrated  every  proposition  in  Euclid  with- 
out once  asking  assistance,  and  without  once  finding  a  difficulty. 
He  was  soon  admitted  to  the  eveninsj  meeting:  of  the  Geometers' 
club,  where  he  distinguished  himself  both  by  solving  and  by 
originating  interesting  problems.  He  was  but  nineteen  when, 
tired  of  performing  endless  multiplications,  he  invented  the 
calculating  machine,  by  which  he  could  obtain  the  product  of 
large  factors  by  turning  a  handle. 

Father  and  son  still  toiled  together  in  the  search  for  knowl- 
edge,—  the  son  being  most  interested  in  science,  and  pursuing 
his  studies  with  such  ardor  and  continuity  as  to  permanently 
impair  his  health.  He  inherited  all  his  father's  credulity  and 
timidity.  In  matters  relating  to  religion  he  considered  it  wrong 
to  inquire,  and  maintained  it  to  be  the  duty  of  every  one  simply 
to  believe,  without  asking  questions. 

Until  his  thirtieth  year,  though  alwa3'S  regular  in  his  life  and 
amiable  in  his  manners,  he  was  not  more  religious  than  the  sou 
of  such  parents  would  naturally  be.  At  that  period,  however, 
an  event  occurred  which  led  him  to  abandon  his  scientific  pur- 
suits and  devote  the  rest  of  his  existence  to  religious  studies  and 
exercises.  As  he  was  riding  one  day  in  Paris,  in  a  carriage 
drawn  by  four  horses,  the  leading  horses  took  fright,  ran  away, 
and,  dashing  upon  a  bridge,  which  was  without  railings,  sprang 
into  the  water.  Fortunately  the  traces  broke,  tlie  carriage 
stojDped  on  the  very  edge  of  the  bridge,  and  no  one  was  injured. 
Pascal,  however,  whose  mind  and  body  were  worn  and  weakened 
by  excessive  study,  was  so  completely  terrified  that  for  many 
months  he  fancied  he  saw  an  abyss  yawning  at  his  side,  into 
which  he  was  about  to  be  precipitated.  To  break  the  illusion, 
he  would  place  a  chair  at  that  side  of  him ;  but  it  was  long  be- 
fore he  could  lose  the  sense  of  imminent  peril  from  this  imagi- 
nary precipice.  He  was  appalled,  too,  by  the  belief  that  if  ho 
had  then  lost  his  life  his  soul  would  have  been  eternally  lost. 

No  more  geometry ;  no  more  experiments  in  natural  philoso- 
phy ;  no  more  studies  in  ancient  literature ;  no  more  general 


BLAISE    r  A  SCAL.  J  01 

society.  Secluding  liimself  from  Ibc  world,  he  gave  himself 
wholly  up  to  the  study  of  the  Bible,  and  to  the  most  austere 
mortification  of  his  natural  tastes  and  desires.  He  removed 
from  his  room  all  superlluous  or  luxurious  articles,  refused  the 
assistance  of  servants,  brought  his  own  dinner  from  the  kitchen, 
fasted  frequently,  partook  only  of  the  plainest  fare,  passed 
hours  every  da}^  in  prayer,  and  gave  all  the  money  he  could 
spare  to  the  poor.  Around  his  waist,  next  his  skin,  he  wore  a 
girdle  of  iron,  with  points  directed  inward,  and  when  he  caught 
himself  taking  pleasure  in  anything  not  spiritual,  or  when  any 
trifling  or  pleasant  thought  arose  in  his  mind,  he  would  press 
the  points  into  his  flesh  with  his  elbow,  to  recall  himself  to 
what  he  called  his  "duty."  His  two  great  rules  were  to  in- 
dulge in  nothing  he  could  do  without,  and  to  enjoy  no  worldly 
pleasure.  He  considered  it  a  sin  to  take  pleasure  in  his  food, 
and  purposely  avoided  the  viands  in  which  he  had  formerly  de- 
lighted. He  took  great  pains  not  to  taste  what  he  ate.  When 
his  sister  remonstrated  against  his  giving  away  so  much  money 
to  the  poor,  and  told  him  he  would  have  nothing  left  for  his  old 
a2:e,  he  made  a  very  apt  reply  :  — 

**I  have  always  remarked,"  said  he,  "that  however  poor  a 
man  may  be,  he  always  leaves  something  behind  him  when  he 
dies." 

It  was  his  excessive  alms-giving  that  led  him  to  establish  in 
Paris,  in  1662,  a  system  of  public  vehicles  similar  to  that  of  our 
modern  omnibuses.  His  estate  was  not  large,  and  he  often 
found  himself  unable  to  relieve  the  destitution  that  wrunii^  his  com- 
passionate  heart.  He  conceived,  therefore,  the  plan  of  having 
lines  of  ^^  voituresJ^  runnin2:  at  reirular  intervals  to  and  from  fixed 
points,  and  carrying  passengers  at  the  uniform  rate  of  five  cents. 
The  project  being  authorized  by  the  king,  Louis  XIY.,  was  car- 
ried into  successful  operation  under  the  personal  supervision  of 
Pascal,  who  let  the  various  lines  for  certain  sums  per  annum, 
and  gave  all  the  proceeds  to  the  poor.  Such  was  the  illustrious 
origin  of  omnibuses,  which,  after  serving  a  useful  purpose  for 
two  centuries,  are  now  about  to  be  superseded  by  horse-cars. 

The  few  religious  persons  who  frequented  the  society  of 
Pascal  were  struck  with  the  subtlety  and  ingenuity  with  which 


102       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

he  defended  Christianity,  or  rather  the  Church,  against  the 
arguments  of  its  foes.  They  besought  him  to  write,  for  the 
edification  of  posterity,  the  substance  of  the  thoughts  which  had 
so  much  comforted  and  established  their  own  minds.  He  con- 
sented to  do  this ;  and  he  was  ever  after  in  the  habit  of  jotting 
down,  hastily  and  briefly,  any  ideas  which  occurred  to  him  that 
might  be  useful  in  the  work  proposed.  These  memoranda  were 
written  on  any  fragment  of  paper  that  happened  to  be  within 
reach  at  the  moment ;  and,  when  a  number  of  them  had  accu- 
mulated, he  would  tie  them  up  in  a  bundle  unassorted. 

But  such  a  life  as  he  lived  is  fatally  contrary  to  the  laws  of 
nature.  He  gradually  sunk  under  the  rigor  of  his  abstinences 
and  the  severity  of  his  self-torture.  A  languor  fell  upon  him, 
in  his  thirty-fifth  year,  which  forbade  all  continuous  labor,  and 
it  increased  for  four  years,  during  which  he  "  edified  "  all  his 
friends  by  the  patience  with  which  he  bore  his  protracted  sui- 
cide. He  never  so  much  as  arranged  the  materials  for  his  work, 
but  left  them  in  the  bundles  in  which  he  had  tied  them  to  sret 
them  out  of  the  way.  He  died  aged  thirty-nine.  The  last 
words  he  uttered  seemed  to  show  that,  after  nearly  ten  years  of 
such  painful  efib rts  to  "prepare  for  death,"  he  had  not  that 
perfect  peace  and  confidence  at  the  hour  of  his  departure  which 
might  have  been  expected. 

"Abandon  me  not,  O  God!"  he  cried,  as  he  sunk  into  un- 
consciousness. 

After  his  death,  his  friends  selected  from  the  mass  of  his 
papers  the  fragments  w^hich,  under  the  title  of  the  "Thoughts 
of  Pascal,"  have  been  admired  in  every  land,  and  translated 
into  every  cultivated  language.  The  original  papers  exist  to 
this  day,  just  as  Pascal  left  them,  and  the  Paris  edition  of  last 
year  is  strictly  conformed  to  them.  The  earlier  editions 
swarmed  with  errors  and  alterations. 

Some  small  books,  like  some  small  men,  have  a  numerous  and 
important  offspring.  The  "  Thoughts  of  Pascal  "  may  be  con- 
sidered the  parent  of  a  Avhole  department  of  modern  literature 
—  the  literature  relating  to  what  are  generally  styled  the  "  Evi- 
dences of  Christianity."  The  mind  of  Pascal  was  at  once  fervid 
and  acute.     He  was  in  deadly  earnest.     But  then  he  was  as  in- 


BLAISE    PASCAL.  103 

jreiiious  i^  suir^fcstin":  difficulties  as  he  was  in  rcmoviuir  tlioni, 
and  he  imagined  so  many  arguments  against  liis  own  belief,  tliat 
an  eminent  writer  thinks  that  his  work  has,  upon  the  whole, 
caused  more  unbelief  than  it  has  cured.  INIany  of  his  opinions, 
too,  that  were  uncontrovcrted  in  his  own  day,  the  world  has 
out2:rown,  and  the  modern  mind  is  lost  in  wonder  that  so  <T:rcat 
a  man  could  have  entertained  them.  The  intelligent  reader,  I 
am  sure,  will  be  interested  in  knowing  something  of  the  serious 
thoughts  of  a  superior  French  mind  of  two  centuries  ago. 

Pascal  was  fully  persuaded  that  miracles  were  still  performed 
in  this  world.  One  of  his  nieces  was  afflicted,  for  three  years 
and  a  half,  with  a  fistula  in  the  tear-gland  of  one  of  her  eyes, 
which  the  most  eminent  surgeons  of  Paris  pronounced  incura- 
ble. The  mother  of  the  child,  acting  upon  the  advice  of  Pascal, 
took  her  to  a  church  where  was  preserved  what  was  called  "the 
holy  thorn,"  that  is,  one  of  the  thorns  of  Christ's  crown  of 
thorns.  The  fistula  was  then  so  bad  that  matter  ran  from  it, 
not  only  through  the  eya,  but  from  the  nose  and  mouth.  "  Nev- 
ertheless," she  says,  "the  child  was  cured,  in  a  moment,  by  the 
touch  of  the  ho]y  thorn."  Pascal  himself  was  a  thorough  be- 
liever in  this  miracle,  and  it  was  chiefiy  through  his  exertions 
that  the  church  solemnly  certified  to  its  authenticit}^,  which  he 
records  as  a  triumph  for  the  faith. 

"My  brother,"  writes  the  joyful  mother,  "was  sensibly 
touched  by  this  grace,  which  he  regarded  as  done  to  himself, 
since  it  was  wrought  upon  a  person  who,  besides  her  relation- 
ship, was  also  his  spiritual  daughter  in  baptism ;  and  his  conso- 
lation was  extreme  to  see  that  God  manifested  himself  so  clearly 
at  a  time  when  the  faith  appeared  as  if  extinguished  in  the 
hearts  of  most.  So  great  was  his  joy  that  he  was  penetrated 
with  it ;  and  this  to  such  a  degree,  that,  his  mind  being  full  of 
it,  God  inspired  him  with  an  infinity  of  admirable  thoughts 
upon  miracles,  which,  throwing  a  new  light  upon  religion,  re- 
doubled the  love  and  respect  which  he  had  always  had  for  it." 

Pascal  was  of  opinion  that  pleasure,  in  all  its  forms,  was 
hurtful  and  wicked,  and  upon  this  opinion  he  uniformly  acted. 
Therefore,  he  utterly  disapproved  of  marriage.  In  writing  to 
his  sister  upon  this  subject,  he  said  :  — 


104  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

"Married  people,  however  rich  and  wise  they  may  be  in  the 
world's  regard,  are  downright  pagans  before  God."  "An  ad- 
vantageous marriage  is  as  desirable  in  a  worldly  point  of  view 
as  it  is  vile  and  prejudicial  in  the  sight  of  God." 

Holding  this  opinion,  he  not  only  abstained  from  marriage 
himself,  but  induced  one  of  his  sisters  to  enter  a  convent,  and 
urged  his  married  sister  vehemently  not  to  entertain  any  offers 
of  marriage  made  for  her  children  during  their  minority.  The 
utmost  that  he  would  concede  was,  that  marrias^e  mis^ht  in  some 
cases  be  allowed  as  the  least  of  many  evils. 

Friendship,  also,  he  considered  perilous  to  the  soul,  foolish 
and  unchristian.  Upon  one  of  his  papers  was  found  written 
this  jDassage  :  — 

"It  is  unjust  that  a  person  should  attach  himself  to  me,  even 
though  he  does  it  with  pleasure  and  voluntarily.  I  should  de- 
ceive those  in  whom  I  should  kindle  a  friendly  feeling  for  my- 
self; for  I  am  not  the  true  object  of  any  one's  regard,  nor  have 
I  that  within  me  which  could  satisfy  tliem.  Am  I  not  soon  to 
die?  Then  the  object  of  their  attachment  will  be  no  more.  As 
I  should  be  a  guilty  man  if  I  caused  any  one  to  believe  a  false- 
hood, even  though  I  insinuated  the  lie  gently,  and  both  of  us 
derived  pleasure  from  the  deception,  so  I  am  not  the  less  guilty 
if  I  cause  any  one  to  love  me ;  and  if  I  attract  people  to  my- 
self, I  ought  to  caution  them  against  the  deceit,  however  agree- 
able it  may  be,  for  they  ought  to  pass  their  lives  and  devote  all 
their  energies  to  pleasing  and  seeking  God." 

This  was  hard  doctrine  to  his  affect icnate  sister  and  her  chil- 
dren. But  the  man  w^as  better  than  his  doctrine,  and  he  both 
loved  and  attracted  love  in  spite  of  it. 

Poverty  and  sickness  he  regarded  as  among  the  chief  of  bless- 
ings. He  almost  went  as  far  as  the  modern  French  philoso- 
pher, Proudhon,  who  said,  "Property  is  robbery."  "No 
Christian,"  he  used  to  say,  "  has  a  right  to  use  any  more  of  his 
propert}^  than  is  strictly  necessary  for  his  maintenance  and  the 
maintenance  of  those  dependent  upon  him ; "  all  the  rest,  he 
thought,  helonged  to  the  poor  and  needy,  and  could  not  be  with- 
held from  them  without  injustice.     He  acted  upon  this  principle 


BLAISE    PASCAL.  105 

most  scrupulously.     With  regard  to  sickness,  be  considered  it 
a  signal  fjivor  of  Heaven. 

"Pity  me  not,"  said  he,  when  some  one  expressed  sympathy 
for  his  siilTorings,  "pity  me  not,  for  sickness  is  the  natural  stato 
of  Christians  ;  because,  Avhcn  a  man  is  sick,  he  is  just  as  bo 
ought  to  be  ahva3^s,  —  sulTcring  pahi,  enduring  the  privation  of 
all  the  good  and  all  the  pleasures  of  sense,  exempt  from  the  evil 
passions  which  work  within  him  all  his  life,  witliout  ambition, 
free  from  avarice,  and  in  the  continual  expectation  of  death. 
Is  it  not  precisely  so,  that  Christians  ought  to  pass  their  lives? 
And  is  it  not  a  great  happiness,  when  a  man  cannot  avoid  living 
exactly  as  he  ought  to  live,  and  has  nothing  to  do  in  the  matter 
except  submit  to  his  lot  humbly  and  without  repining?  Tliis  is 
the  reason  why  I  ask  nothing  of  God  except  this  grace." 

He  had  his  desire  fully  gratified,  for  the  last  four  years  of  his 
life  were  only  a  lingering  death.  One  symptom  of  his  disease 
was  an  inability  to  drink.  He  could  take  liquid  only  a  drop  at 
a  time,  so  that  one  of  the  nauseous  doses  of  medicine  which 
people  took  in  those  days  —  large  goblets  of  black  and  filthy 
abomination  —  was  to  him  an  hour's  torture,  which  he  endured 
with  more  than  patience.  He  relished  his  misery  and  enjoyed 
the  long  disgust  as  a  precious  mortification.  During  the  last 
weeks  of  his  life  he  appeared  to  suffer  much  from  the  kindness 
of  his  friends  and  the  abundance  by  which  he  was  surrounded. 
He  asked  to  have  some  poor  sick  man  brought  into  his  room 
and  treated  with  the  same  care  as  himself. 

"I  wish,"  said  he,  "to  have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that 
there  is  at  least  one  poor  sick  person  as  well  treated  as  I  am,  so 
ashamed  am  I  to  see  around  me  such  an  abundance  of  good 
things.  When  I  reflect  that,  while  I  have  every  alleviation, 
there  are  an  infinite  number  of  poor  who  are  more  sick  than  I, 
and  yet  are  in  want  of  things  the  most  necessary,  the  thought 
gives  me  such  pain  that  I  can  scarcely  support  it." 

This  was  a  touchini]:  and  noljle  thouirht,  and  one  that  must 
frequently  occur  to  persons  of  good  feeling,  who  enjoy  every 
comfort  in  the  midst  of  a  wretched  and  destitute  people. 

When  we  turn  from  the  conversation  of  this  refined  devotee 
to  the  work  by  which  he  is  chiefly  known,  the  "  Thoughts  of 


106  PEOPLE'S    i500K    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Pascal,"  wc  observe  the  same  mixture  of  line  moral  feeling 
and  perverted  sense.  In  the  early  chapters  he  employs  all  his 
acuteuess  in  showing  the  weakness,  the  ignorance  the  incapacity 
of  man,  and  thus  prepares  the  way  for  his  main  object,  which 
is  to  show  man's  need  of  the  guidance  of  an  infallible  church. 
A  few  of  the  striking  detached  "  Thoughts,"  in  the  first  part  of 
the  volume,  are  the  following  :  — 

"  Do  you  wash  people  to  believe  something  good  of  you  ?  Say 
nothing  about  it  yourself." 

"If  Cleopatra's  nose  had  been  shorter,  all  the  politics  of  the 
world  had  taken  another  turn." 

"  If  all  men  knew  what  others  said  of  them,  there  would  not 
be  four  friends  in  the  world." 

"  Because  people  are  disinterested,  we  ought  not  to  conclude 
wdth  certainty  that  they  do  not  lie,  for  there  are  people  who  lie 
for  the  sake  of  lying." 

"When  everj^thing  moves  equally,  nothing  seems  to  move, 
as  in  a  ship.  So  when  all  is  going  toward  destruction,  nothing 
seems  to  be  out  of  order.  The  man  who  stops  sees  the  rest 
hurrying  to  ruin,  as  from  a  fixed  point." 

"A  little  thing  consoles  us,  because  a  little  thing  afilicts  us." 

"  I  do  not  admire  the  excess  of  a  virtue  —  such  as  valor,  for 
example  —  unless  I  see  in  the  same  person  the  excess  of  the 
opposite  virtue, — as  in  Epaminondas,  who  had  extreme  valor 
and  extreme  benignity." 

"  How  pleasant,  that  a  man  should  have  the  right  to  kill  me 
because  he  lives  on  the  other  side  of  a  river,  and  because  his 
prince  has  a  quarrel  with  mine,  though  I  have  none  wdth  him  !  " 

"I  wish  with  all  my  heart  to  see  an  Italian  book,  of  which  I 
know  only  the  title,  w^hich  alone  is  of  more  value  than  many 
books  :    '  Opinion  rules  the  World.'  " 

"Vanity  is  so  fixed  in  the  heart  of  man,  that  a  soldier,  a  la- 
borer, a  cook,  a  porter,  vaunts  himself  and  wishes  to  have  his 
admirers ;  and  philosophers  themselves  not  less.  And  those 
who  w^'ite  against  glory  desire  the  glory  of  having  written  well, 
and  those  who  read  such  a  discourse  desire  the  glory  of  having 
read  it ;  and  I  who  write  this  have,  perhaps,  the  same  desire, 
and,  perhaps,  those  who  will  read  it." 


BLAISE    PASCAL  107 

**  Those  who  despise  men  most,  {ind  compare  them  ^vith  the 
beasts,  still  Avisli  to  be  admired  and  believed,  and  thus  contra- 
dict themselves." 

"Man  is  but  a  reed,  the  feeblest  in  nature ;  but  he  is  a  think- 
in^:  reed.  The  entire  universe  need  not  arm  itself  to  crush  him. 
A  vapor,  a  drop  of  water,  sulBccs.  But  though  the  universe 
should  crush  him,  man  would  still  be  nobler  than  that  which 
slew  him,  because  he  would  know  that  he  was  dying;  while  of 
the  advanta^fc  which  the  universe  had  over  him  the  universe 
would  know  nothing." 

"Nature  is  an  infinite  sphere,  of  which  the  centre  is  every- 
where, the  circumference  nowhere." 

"  The  2:ood  there  is  in  a  book  was  hard  for  the  author  to  ac- 
quire,  but  the  bad  can  be  corrected  in  a  moment." 

"  Rivers  are  roads  that  march,  and  carry  us  where  we  Avish 
to  go." 

"The  greatness  of  man  consists  in  this,  that  he  knows  him- 
self to  be  miserable.  A  tree  does  not  know  that  it  is  misera- 
ble. To  know  ourselves  miserable,  then,  is  to  he  miserable ; 
but  it  is  also  great  to  know  ourselves  miserable.  Our  very 
misery  proves  our  greatness ;  it  is  the  misery  of  a  great  lord, 
of  a  kini^r  dethroned." 

"Here  is  a  proof  that  man  hates  the  truth,  which  fills  me 
with  horror :  The  Catholic  relisfion  does  not  oblisre  us  to  re- 
veal  our  sins  to  all  the  world;  it  permits  us  to  conceal  them 
from  all  men,  except  one  only,  to  whom  it  commands  us  to  dis- 
cover the  bottom  of  the  heart  just  as  it  is.  There  is  just  one 
man  in  the  world  whom  we  are  required  to  undeceive,  and  that 
one  man  is  bound  to  keep  the  secret  inviolable,  so  that  this 
kuowledoe  is  in  his  mind  as  thouirh  it  were  not.  Can  we  im- 
agine  anything  more  charitable  and  tender?  And  yet,  such  is 
the  corruption  of  the  human  heart,  that  it  finds  something  hard 
in  this  law ;  and  this  is  one  of  the  principal  reasons  for  the  re- 
volt against  the  church  in  all  Europe.  IIow  unjust  and  unrea- 
sonable is  the  heart  of  man,  to  think  it  an  outrage  to  be  required 
to  do  to  one  man  what  it  would  be  only  right  to  do  to  all  I  For, 
is  it  just  that  we  should  deceive  our  fellow-meu?" 


108  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

\ 

These  few  specimens  will  suffice  to  give  an  idea  of  the  inge- 
nuity and  point  of  the  "  Thoughts. "  "When  the  author  has  com- 
pleted the  survey  of  the  weakness  and  helplessness  of  us  poor 
mortals,  then  he  develops,  with  the  same  acuteuess,  the  argu- 
ments which  convinced  him  of  the  divine  orisfin  and  bindino: 
authority  of  the  Christian  religion,  as  expounded  by,  and  con- 
tained in,  the  church  in  which  he  was  born.  This  part  of  his 
work  has  been  drawn  from  as  freely  by  Protestant  as  by  Catho- 
lic writers,  since  the  greater  part  of  it  is  devoted  to  establishing 
the  faith  common  to  both ;  and  Pascal  treats  this  part  of  his 
subject  so  exhaustively,  that  I  doubt  if  there  can  be  discovered 
in  any  modern  author  a  single  argument  for  the  divine  origin 
of  Christianity  the  germ  of  which  cannot  be  found  in  Pascal. 


yATHER    MATUE-W.  lOl) 


FATHER   MATHEW. 


The  grand  celebration  in  New  York  of  the  seventy-sixth 
birthday  of  Theobald  Mathew,  recalls  to  memory  the  extraor- 
dinary career  of  that  benefactor  of  his  race,  and  shows  that  the 
work  begun  in  his  lifetime  goes  on  now  that  he  is  dead.  There 
is  a  Father  Mathew  Total  Abstinence  Society  in  most,  if  not  all, 
the  Catholic  parishes  of  New  York.  On  the  10th  of  October, 
the  members  of  these  societies,  wearing  green  scarfs  and  deco- 
rations, with  banners  flying  and  bands  of  music  playing, 
marched  through  the  principal  streets  of  the  city,  and  passed 
in  review  before  the  mayor  and  before  the  Archbishop  of  New 
York. 

It  is  good  to  see  the  stalwart  sons  of  toil  banding  together 
for  the  purpose  of  supporting  one  another  in  a  virtuous  and 
most  difficult  resolution.  In  a  city  of  seven  thousand  drink- 
ing places,  the  enemy  lies  in  wait  for  them  at  every  step,  — the 
working-man's  deadliest  enemy.  Surely  it  is  well  for  them  to 
combine  against  a  foe  that  despoils  of  character  and  energy, 
self-respect  and  the  chance  of  prospering,  and  entails  upon  wife 
and  chiklren  a  miserable  inheritance  of  poverty  and  shame. 

In  the  year  1838  there  was,  in  the  city  of  Cork,  a  small  Tem- 
perance Society  chiefly  composed  of  Quakers.  Cork  and  its 
suburbs  contained  a  population  of  more  than  a  hundred  thou- 
sand, among  whom,  it  could  be  almost  said,  drunkenness  was 
the  rule  and  sobriety  the  exception.  This  famous  city,  though 
it  had  some  line  streets  and  a  few  handsome  edifices,  was  chiefly 
composed  of  long,  narrow  lanes,  lined  with  wretched  huts  and 
shanties,  in  which  poverty  sought  a  momentary  res^^ite  from  its 
Borrows  in  strong  drink.  The  little  band  of  Quakers,  after 
struggling  awhile  with  this  gigantic  evil,  with  scarcely  any  re- 


110  PEOPLE'S      BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

suits,  vrere  ready  to  give  up  in  despair,  when  one  of  them  pro- 
posed that  they  should  consult  Father  Mathew,  and  endeavor 
to  enlist  him  as  an  active  co-operator  in  the  cause. 

Father  Mathev/  was  then  only  known  as  an  exemplary, 
benevolent,  and  remarkably  influential  parish  priest,  nearly 
fifty  years  of  age,  and  a  resident  of  Cork  ever  since  his  ordi- 
nation in  1814.  His  father,  who  was  the  illegitimate  son  of  a 
nobleman,  died  when  Theobald  was  a  child,  and  the  boy  was 
reared  by  an  aunt  to  the  age  of  twenty,  when  he  entered  the 
College  of  Maynooth,  a  seminary  for  the  education  of  Catholic 
priests.  Soon  after  his  settlement  at  Cork  he  inherited  prop- 
erty, which  a  dispensation  from  Kome  allowed  him  to  retain. 
With  part  of  it  he  began  the  erection  of  a  magnificent  church, 
which,  I  believe,  was  not  finished  in  his  lifetime ;  and  with 
another  portion  he  bought  and  laid  out  a  cemetery,  where  the 
poor  were  provided  with  graves  from  a  fund  formed  by  selling 
graves  to  the  rich.  In  the  discharge  of  his  priestly  duties,  he 
was  noted  for  an  indefatigable  assiduity,  especially  in  visiting 
and  solacing  the  poor,  and  in  promoting  schemes  for  their  ben- 
efit. Being  a  magistrate  as  well  as  a  clergyman,  he  was  fre- 
quently employed  as  an  arbitrator  in  disputes,  and  many  poor 
men  relied  on  him  for  legal  advice.  He  was  one  of  those  be- 
nevolent and  trustworthy  persons  whom  every  one  likes  to  have 
as  executor  of  his  will  and  guardian  of  orphan  children.  There 
was  something  in  his  manner,  too,  that  was  exceedingly  win- 
ning, and  he  had  a  plain,  direct,  and  very  persuasive  way  of 
preaching,  that  made  him  much  sought  for  when  a  collection 
was  to  be  taken  up.  Probably  there  w^as  no  man  in  Ireland 
who  could  get  more  money  into  the  plates  for  a  benevolent  ob- 
ject than  Father  Mathew. 

It  was  because  of  his  paramount  influence  among  the  poor  of 
Cork,  and  his  singular  power  of  winning  over  masses  of  men, 
that  the  Quakers  sought  his  aid.  He  listened  to  their  state- 
ments, and,  after  some  hesitation,  consented  to  lend  a  helping 
hand.  Instead,  however,  of  co-operating  with  them,  he 
thought  it  best  to  proceed  on  his  own  account,  and  to  set  up 
a  new  and  independent  Temperance  Societ3^ 

He  began  by  holding  two  'temperance  meetings  a  week,  in 


FATHER     MATIIEW.  Ill 

tlie  IIorsc-Baza.'ir  of  Cork;  one  on  Friday  evening,  when  poor 
^vliiskey-drinkcrs  feel  the  consequences  of  their  drinking  in 
empty  pockets  and  &tomachs ;  the  other  on  Saturday  evening, 
when  the  possession  of  a  week's  wages  is  tempting  every 
drinker  to  the  whiskey-shop.  At  the  first  meeting  a  society  was 
formed,  of  Avhich  he  was  chosen  president,  and  he  administered 
the  pledge  to  thirty-five  persons.  The  next  evening,  a  much 
larger  number  attended,  and  two  or  three  hundred  joined.  lie 
usually  delivered  a  short,  plain,  anecdotical  address,  after  which 
be  read  the  pledge,  and  those  who  wished  to  join  the  society 
came  forward  and  signed  their  names,  or  made  their  mark,  in  a 
book.  But  as  the  numbers  increased,  the  si<2:nin2^  took  too 
much  time,  and  he  only  required  the  candidates  to  repeat  the 
pledge  after  him.  They  usually  fell  upon  their  knees  before  he 
pronounced  it,  and  when  they  had  uttered  the  words,  he  made 
over  them  the  sign  of  the  cross,  which  imparted  to  the  promise 
somethins:  of  the  character  of  an  oath. 

Father  iMathew's  wonder-working  pledge  was  as  follows  :  — 

"I  promise,  with  the  divine  assistance,  as  long  as  I  continue 
a  meml)er  of  the  Teetotal  Temperance  Society,  to  abstain  from 
all  intoxicating  drinks,  except  for  medicinal  or  sacramental 
purposes,  and  to  prevent  as  much  as  possible,  by  advice  and 
example,  drunkenness  in  others." 

When  these  words  had  been  slowly  uttered.  Father  Mathew, 
with  uplifted  hand,  pronounced  a  brief  prayer  :  — 

"May  God  bless  you,  and  give  you  strength  and  grace  to 
keep  your  promise." 

To  which  he  sometimes  added,  as  he  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  :  — 

**In  this  sign  alone  you  may  hope  to  persevere  and  conquer." 

For  the  space  of  eighteen  months  he  continued  to  hold  his 
meetings  at  the  Horse-Bazaar  every  Friday  and  Saturday  even- 
ing, and  with  ever  increasing  success.  Those  who  had  taken 
the  pledge  preached  temperance  to  their  friends  and  relations, 
and  brought  them  in  to  the  meetings ;  and  in  this  way  the 
circle  of  the  reforming  influence  widened  from  week  to  week, 
until  there  arose  a  mania  to  take  the  pledge.  During 
that  year  and  a  half.  Father  ^lathew  administered  the  pledge 


112  PEOPLE'S     BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

to  more  people  than  the  entire  population  of  Cork,  for  soon  the 
inhabitants  of  the  adjacent  country  began  to  flock  in  on  the 
meeting  clays.  The  change  in  the  aspect  of  the  place,  and  in 
the  manners  and  behavior  of  the  people,  was  wonderful. 
From  being  one  of  the  most  dissolute  and  disorderly  places  in 
Europe,  Cork  became  the  abode  of  peaceful  industry.  Hun- 
dreds of  drinking  places  were  closed.  It  so  happened  that 
Father  ]\Iathe\v  had  two  brothers  and  a  brother-in-law  who 
were  distillers  of  whiskey.  Their  business  began  to  fall  off; 
and  at  length,  as  the  work  went  on,  they  were  compelled  to 
shut  up  their  distilleries. 

Until  the  year  1840  this  remarkable  movement  was  confined 
to  the  neighborhood  of  Cork,  and  it  was  a  mere  accident  that 
gave  it  wider  course.  Having  been  invited  to  Limerick,  a 
large  town  about  fifty  miles  from  Cork,  to  preach  a  charity 
sermon,  he  arrived  there  on  Saturday,  not  expecting  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  teetotalism  until  his  return.  But  a  con- 
siderable number  of  persons  residing  in  Limerick  had  made  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  Horse-Bazaar  at  Cork,  and  taken  the  pledge 
there ;  and  thus  every  one  in  the  town  had  heard  of  Father 
Mathew's  marvellous  doings.  No  sooner  was  it  known  that  he 
was  in  the  town,  than  people  began  to  assemble  round  the 
house  in  which  he  was,  until  the  crowd  was  so  immense  that 
the  regiment  stationed  in  the  place  had  to  be  summoned  to  aid 
in  keeping  the  people  from  crushing  one  another.  At  one 
moment  an  iron  railing  gave  way,  and  precipitated  a  mass  of 
persons  into  the  river  Shannon ;  from  which,  however,  they 
w^ere  all  rescued  by  the  troops.  All  that  day  Father  Mathew 
kept  administering  the  pledge  to  thousands  at  a  time,  while 
new  thousands  came  hurrying  in  from  the  country. 

These  unexpected  scenes  at  Limerick  decided  Father 
Mathew's  future  career.  He  became  the  Apostle  of  Temper- 
ance. In  some  of  the  densely  peopled  counties  of  Ireland  he 
administered  the  pledge  to  fifty  thousand  persons  a  day  for 
some  days  together.  Three  millions  of  the  people  of  Ireland, 
it  is  computed,  vowed  themselves  to  total  abstinence  in  his 
presence ;  and  in  America  his  success  was  not  less  astonishing. 

But  the  most  wonderful  thing  of  all  was,  that  the  pledge  thus 


FAT  HE  n    MATIIEW.  113 

hastily  taken  was  generally  kept.  The  Irish  peo[)le  eamc  to 
regard  Father  Mathew  with  almost  superstitious  veneration  ; 
and,  therefore,  attached  peculiar  sanctity  to  a  pledge  made  to 
him.  Blind  men  came  to  him,  asking  him  to  restore  their 
sight;  and  sick  women  were  often  seen  to  touch  him,  as  if 
expecting  to  be  healed  by  "virtue"  proceeding  from  his  [)erson. 
lie  told  the  lame  and  the  blind,  who  came  to  him  for  miraculous 
restoration,  that  he  had  not  the  power  to  work  miracles ;  but, 
if  they  persisted  in  believing  that  his  touch  would  cure,  he 
would  good-naturedl}^  lay  his  hand  upon  them.  On  one  occa- 
sion, some  men,  who  had  come  from  a  distance  to  take  the 
pledge,  on  their  return  homeward  chanced  to  drink  water  from 
a  vessel  in  which  a  small  quantity  of  whiskey  had  been  acci- 
dentally left.  They  were  horror-stricken.  Nothing  would 
satisfy  them  but  to  return  to  Father  ^lathew,  explain  the 
circumstance  to  him,  and  again  take  the  pledge. 

Nothing  takes  place  in  this  world  without  sufficient  cause. 
Father  !Mathew  really  was  an  eminently  kind-hearted,  good 
man.  To  give  the  reader  a  taste  of  his  quality,  and  an  insight 
into  the  secret  of  his  power,  I  will  copy  a  few  sentences  from  a 
sermon  he  once  delivered  in  aid  of  an  orphan  asylum  in 
Ireland  :  — 

"If,"  said  he,  "I  were  to  pause  to  enumerate  but  the  hun- 
dredth part  of  the  many  generous  deeds  of  mercy  performed 
even  by  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  of  which  I  m3'self  have  been 
witness,  I  would  occupy  the  whole  of  the  time  which  this 
discourse  should  last.  Permit  me,  however,  to  state  one  simple 
case  of  fiicts  :  A  poor  woman  found  in  the  streets  a  male  infant, 
which  she  brought  to  me,  and  asked  imploringly  what  she  was 
to  do  with  it.  Influenced,  unhappily,  by  cold  caution,  I 
advised  her  to  give  it  to  the  church- wardens.  It  was  then  even- 
ing. On  the  ensuing  morning,  early,  I  found  this  poor  woman 
at  my  doors.  She  was  a  poor  water-carrier.  She  cried 
bitterl}^,  and  said,  '  I  have  not  slept  one  wink  all  night  for 
parting  with  that  child  which  God  had  put  in  my  way,  and, 
if  you  will  give  me  leave,  I  will  take  him  back  again.'  I  was 
filled   with    confusion   at   the    pious   tenderness    of  this   poor 

8 


114:  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGKAPHY. 

creature,  and  I  went  with  her  to  the  parish  nurse  for  the  infant, 
which  she  brought  to  her  home  with  joy,  exclaiming,  in  the 
very  words  of  the  prophet,  'Poor  child,  though  thy  mother  has 
forgotten  thee,  I  will  not  forget  thee.'  Eight  jxars  have 
elapsed  since  she  brought  to  her  humble  home  that  exposed 
infant,  and  she  is  now  blind  from  the  constant  exposure  to  wet 
and  cold ;  and  ten  times  a  day  may  be  seen  that  poor  water- 
carrier  passing  with  her  weary  load,  led  by  this  little  foundling 
boy.  O  merciful  Jesus,  I  would  gladly  sacrifice  the  wealth 
and  power  of  this  wide  world,  to  secure  to  myself  the  glorious 
welcome  that  awaits  this  poor  blind  water-carrier  on  the  great 
accounting  day !  Oh,  what,  compared  to  charity  like  this,  the 
ermined  robe,  the  ivory  sceptre,  the  golden  throne,  the  jewelled 
diadem ! " 

Father  Mathew  died  in  December,  1856,  aged  sixty-six 
years.  The  great  expenses  in  which  he  was  involved  by  his 
labors  on  behalf  of  temperance  caused  him  much  pecuniary 
embarrassment  in  his  later  years.  Queen  Victoria  granted  him 
a  pension  of  three  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  he  derived  con- 
siderable sums  fi'om  the  sale  of  medals  and  diplomas ;  but  he 
gave  away  as  many  as  he  sold,  and,  I  believe,  that  at  the  time 
of  his  death  he  was  insolvent. 

Often,  in  going  through  streets  where  every  other  house 
contains  a  grog-shop,  I  have  been  ready  to  exclaim :  ''  Oh 
for  another  Father  Mathew  I" 


SCENE    IN    THE    LIFE    OF    AAEON    BUUU.       lli> 


SCENE  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  AARON   BURR. 


-K>«- 


In  1812,  Aaron  Burr  returned  from  Europe,  fifty-six  years 
of  age,  a  mined  man.  Although  acquitted  in  his  trial  for  trea- 
son, his  countrymen  believed  him  guilty,  and  his  old  friends 
generally  shunned  his  company.  For  four  j^ears  he  had  wan- 
dered about  Europe,  and  now  returned  home  deeply  in  debt 
and  destitute  of  resources,  to  endeavor  to  earn  his  livelihood  by 
his  old  profession  of  the  law. 

The  first  news  which  met  him  on  his  arrival  was  that  his  only 
daughter  had  lost  her  only  child,  a  boy  of  whom  Burr  was  ex- 
travagantly fond.  He  urged  his  afllicted  daughter,  who  then 
resided  in  South  Carol iua,  to  visit  him  in  New  York  ;  and  for 
this  purpose  she  embarked  on  board  of  a  small  schooner,  which 
was  wrecked  a  few  days  after,  and  all  on  board  perished.  Ere 
lon2:  her  husband  died,  and  Burr  was  alone  on  the  earth.  To 
use  his  own  lansfuas^e,  he  was  "  severed  from  the  human  race.'* 

These  heavy  blows,  following  one  another  so  quickly,  touched 
the  hearts  of  some,  who  had  known  him  formerl}^,  with  compas- 
sion, and  this  feeling  would  have  prompted  them  to  ofi^er  him 
consolation,  but  for  the  belief  that  his  heart  was  not  contrite,  and 
that  his  life  was  no  purer  than  it  had  been  during  his  fortuuato 
daj^s.  Respectable  citizens,  therefore,  still  held  aloof  from  the 
man  whom  once  they  had  courted,  and  whose  company  they  had 
once  considered  an  honor. 

There  was  at  that  time  in  New  York  a  society  of  religious 
ladies,  of  different  churches,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  mcctiug 
weekly  for  conversation  and  religious  exercises.  These  ladies 
remembered  that  Aaron  Burr  was  the  grandson  of  one  distin- 
guished clergyman,  and  the  son  of  another,  and  that  his  mother 
had  been  a  woman   eminent  for  her  goodness.     Often,  in  their 


116  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHTc 

meetings,  Colonel  Burr,  his  errors  and  his  sorrows,  and  tiie  v^ir- 
tues  of  his  ancestors,  were  the  subject  of  conversation;  and  it 
occurred  to  them  that,  perhaps,  if  he  were  kindly  approached 
and  wisely  admonished,  he  might  repent  of  the  past,  reform  his 
conduct,  and  restore  himself  to  the  respect  of  his  fellow-citizens. 
As  he  was  never  seen  in  a  church,  the  ladies  were  puzzled  to 
devise  a  scheme  for  getting  access  to  his  ear. 

They  concluded,  at  length,  to  request  one  of  the  clergy  to 
call  upon  him,  and  remind  him  of  his  virtuous  ancestry,  and  urge 
him  to  folloAV  their  example.  The  person  whom  they  selected  for 
the  errand  was  the  Eev.  Dr.  J.  M.  Mathews,  of  the  Dutch  Re- 
formed Church,  afterwards  Chancellor  of  the  New  York  Univer- 
sity, and  still  living  among  us.  Dr.  Mathews  strenuously  ob- 
jected to  undertake  so  delicate  and  embarrassing  a  mission  ;  but 
the  ladies  continuing  to  persuade  him,  he  at  length  reluctantly 
undertook  it. 

Colonel  Burr  then  lived  and  practised  law  in  Nassau  Street, 
within  a  few  steps  from  the  spot  where  he  had  established  him- 
self as  a  young  practitioner  thirty  years  before.  Dr.  Mathews 
called  in  the  evening,  and  was  informed  that  Colonel  Burr  was 
at  tea.  He  sent  in  his  name,  however,  and  Burr  immediately 
came  into  the  hall,  asked  him  into  his  parlor,  and  behaved  to 
him  with  that  exquisite  courtesy  for  which  he  was  so  famous. 
He  invited  the  doctor  to  take  a  cup  of  tea,  which,  he  said,  was 
to  him  "  tired  nature's  sweet  restorer,"  and  added  that  tea  was 
everything  to  him,  and  that  he  often  sipped  it  through  the  whole 
evening.  He  resumed  his  tea,  and  continued  to  taste  it  occa- 
sionally during  most  of  the  conversation  which  followed.  As 
Dr.  Mathews  did  not  immediately  explain  the  object  of  his  com- 
ing, they  conversed  for  a  while  upon  various  topics ;  and  the 
doctor  testifies,  in  his  "Recollections,"  that  nothing  can  be  imag- 
ined more  delightful  than  Burr's  conversation,  nor  more  fasci- 
nating than  his  manners. 

The  clergyman  ventured,  after  some  delay,  to  approach  the 
object  of  his  visit  by  saying,  that  Colonel  Burr's  return  to  New 
York  was  a  proof  that  the  foreign  lands,  upon  which  be  had 
been  conversing,  had  not  weaned  him  from  his  own  country,  and 
that  he  might  be  glad  to  know  that  he  still  had  friends  in  Amer- 


SCENE    IN    THE    LIFE     OF    A  A.  RON    BUllR.       117 

ica  Avho  took  a  deep  interest  in  his  welfare.  I>urr  look(  d  .sur- 
prised, and  fixed  his  c^^cs  upon  his  visitor  as  though  eager  for  an 
explanation  of  his  remark.  The  doctor  then  stated  his  mission, 
and  informed  him  at  Avliose  request  it  was  undertaken.  Burr 
listened  most  attentively,  and  when  his  visitor  ceased  speaking, 
he  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Do  I  understand  you  rightly  ?  Do  you  say  that  these  Chris- 
tian ladies  —  and  with  the  husbands  of  some  among  them  I  have 
formerly  been  acquainted  —  have  thought  of  Aaron  Burr  with 
kindness,  and  have  made  me  a  subject  of  their  prayers  for  Di- 
vine mercy  on  my  behalf?  It  is  what  I  little  expected,  and,  as 
a  irentleman,  I  thank  them  for  their  kind  remembrance  of  me. 
Be  so  good  as  to  assure  them  of  it.  But,  sir,  I  fear  it  is  all  in 
vain  ;  I  fear  they  arc  asking  Heaven  for  Avhat  Heaven  has  not  in 
store  for  me." 

Dr.  Mathews  assured  him  that  the  ladies  hoped  for  better 
things,  and  asked  permission  to  speak  plainly  to  him. 

''Certainl}',  certainly,  —  most  certainly,"  he  answered;  "why 
should  you  not?  You  can  have  but  one  motive  in  holding  this 
jjiterview.  Let  me  hear  what  you  would  say.  You  have  met 
me  with  a  look  of  kindness ;  you  speak  to  me  in  tones  of  kind- 
ness. I  do  not  so  often  meet  with  this  from  gentlemen  in  Xew 
York  as  to  cast  it  behind  me.  Speak  plainly  to  me,  and  I  will 
speak  plainly  to  you." 

The  doctor  then  asked  him  this  question  :  — 

"Do  3'ou  believe  in  the  truth  and  inspiration  of  the  Bible?" 

"I  suppose,"  he  replied,  "I  am  generally  considered  an  infi- 
del. But  I  am  not  an  infidel  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word. 
I  will  not  so  disparage  my  own  power  to  judge  of  evidence  as 
to  deny  that  the  Bible  is  true.  The  only  real  infidel  is  the  man 
who  does  not  think,  and  because  he  is  afraid  to  think.  ^Ye  will 
proceed  on  the  supposition  that  the  Bible  is  to  be  believed  !  " 

Dr.  Mathews  then  proceeded  to  accomplish  the  object  of  his 
coming.  He  spoke  of  Burr's  religious  ancestors,  and  dwelt 
upon  his  mother's  hopes  for  him  at  his  birth,  when  she  prayed 
that  her  son  miirht  be  as  2:ood  a  man  as  his  father.  At  consider- 
able  length  he  reviewed  his  past  history,  and  the  efibrts  that 
bad  been  made  in  his  childhood  and  youth  to  train  him  up  in  the 


118  TEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

way  he  should  go.  At  the  mention  of  his  mother,  Colonel  Burr 
appeared  to  be  deeply  moved,  and  he  listened  to  all  the  remarks 
of  his  visitor  witli  every  appearance  of  interest.  The  doctor 
paused  at  length,  and  waited  for  him  to  speak. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Burr,  "you  would  like  to  proceed.  You 
know  we  are  to  speak  without  restraint ;  I  take  it  all  well,  for  I 
know  it  is  well  meant. 

The  doctor  answered  that  there  was  another  subject  to  which 
he  wished  to  allude,  and  yet  scarcely  knew  how  to  introduce  it. 

"I  wish  to  hear  you,"  said  Col.  Burr. 

The  clergyman  then  cut  deeply  into  the  heart  of  the  bereaved 
and  solitary  man,  by  speaking  to  him  of  his  lost  daughter, 
whose  voice,  he  said,  ought  to  speak  to  him  from  the  deep, 
warning  him  to  repent. 

While  Dr.  Mathews  was  upon  this  subject  the  heart-broken 
father  moaned  and  Avept  to  such  a  degree  that  his  visitor  paused, 
and  there  was  a  long  silence.     Then  Burr  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"You  are  doing  nothing  more  than  your  duty,  and  I  am  the 
more  pleased  with  3'ou  for  doing  it  so  fully.  This  is  a  new 
scene  for  me.  You  have  opened  fountains  that  have  long  been 
dry,  and  that,  perhaps,  I  may  have  thought  were  dried  up  forever. 
It  is  true,  it  is  true,  judgments  have  followed  me  for  3'ears, — 
judgments  in  every  form,  in  the  heaviest  form,  till  I  am  left 
alone  of  all  that  loved  me,  as  father  or  near  relative.  There  is 
a  desolation  here,"  laying  his  hand  on  his  heart,  "that  none  but 
the  Searcher  of  Hearts  can  understand." 

Even  these  pathetic  words  did  not  induce  the  clergyman  to 
spare  him.  He  asked  him  if  there  was  not  something  in  the 
desolation  of  his  own  household  which  called  to  mind  another 
household  which  his  own  hand  had  desolated. 

Burr's  eyes  flashed  fire,  but  the  expression  passed  away  in  a 
moment,  and  he  asked,  with  a  tone  and  look  of  sorrow  :  — 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  How  and  where  would  you 
have  me  turn?" 

The  clergyman  then  urged  him  again  to  repentance  ;  advised 
him  to  return,  like  the  prodigal  son,  to  attend  church,  and  de- 
vote his  future  life  to  good  works. 

Col.  Burr  interrupted  his  visitor,  and  said  :  — 


SCENE    IN    THE    LIEE     OF    AAKON    BUllR.        119 

*'Yoii  don't  seem  to  know  how  I  am  viewed  by  the  relii^ious 
public,  or  l)y  those  who  resort  to  your  churches.  AViiere  is 
there  a  nuui  among  all  such  whom  I  would  be  willing  to  meet, 
and  who  would  welcome  me  into  his  pew?  Of  your  own  con- 
gregation,  would   ,    or  ,   or  -,   give    me    a    seat? 

These  arc  our  merchant  princes,  —  men  who  give  tone  to  Wall 
Street,  and  fix  the  standard  of  mercantile  morals  in  our  city. 
Woidd  the}'  make  Aaron  Burr  a  welcome  visitor  to  your  church  ? 
Rather,  indeed,  I  may  ask,  would  you  yourself  do  so?  IIow 
would  you  feel  walking  up  the  aisle  with  me,  and  opening  your 
pew  door  for  my  entrance  ?  " 

Dr.  ]\Iatliews  replied  that  such  an  event  would  give  him  great 
pleasure. 

"Then,"  said  Burr,  "you  would  indulge  your  feelings  of 
kindness  at  the  expense  of  3'our  usefulness  as  the  minister 
of  your  congregation.  Do  you  believe  that  such  gentlemen  as 
I  have  named  would  be  pleased,  or  rather  that  they  would  not 
be  highly  displeased,  at  seeing  you  do  anything  of  the  kind?" 

As  he  said  these  words,  be  rose  from  his  chair,  and  paced  up 
and  down  the  room,  his  heart  evidently  swelling  with  indigna- 
tion and  pride.  Then,  losing  his  self-control,  he  said,  passion- 
ately :  — 

"  There  are  men  who  join  in  this  system  of  proscription  who 
ousfht  to  be  well  aware  that  I  know  enous^h  of  them  and  their 
condition  to  hurl  them  into  poverty-,  if  I  would  only  undertake 
the  task.  I  could  strip  them  of  the  very  houses  in  which  they 
and  their  families  live,  and  turn  them  into  the  street.  The  title 
to  much  of  the  property  now  held  by  the  rich  men  of  our  city 
would  not  bear  to  be  sifted.  I  know  all  about  it,  and  I  may  be 
induced  some  day  to  show  what  I  am  able  to  do  in  the  matter." 

The  doctor  observed  that  he  was  not  competent  to  judge  of 
such  affairs,  which  were  far  removed  from  the  object  of  his 
visit. 

Burr  instantly  sat  down  again,  and,  with  the  most  exquisite 
politeness,  apologized  for  his  warmth,  adding,  that  his  mind 
was  so  chafed  at  times  by  the  circumstances  in  which  he  found 
himself,  that  he  was  not  alwaj^s  as  self-possessed  as  he  could 
wish. 


120  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

"  Ouce,"  said  he,  *^I  had  the  credit  of  such  self-possession  that 
nothing  could  disturb  or  overthrow  it.  I  have  less  of  it  now. 
Age  and  sorrow  combined  wear  away  the  strength  of  the 
strons^est." 

The  minister  then  most  earnestly  renewed  his  exhortation, 
and  implored  him  to  repent,  and  begin  a  new  life.  Burr  heard 
him  patiently,  and  said,  in  reply  :  — 

"This  is  all  true,  and  how  strongly  it  reminds  me  of  my  early 
days  !  It  seems  as  if  I  heard  good  Dr.  Bellamy  again  speaking 
to  me.  But  I  fear  such  appeals  will  have  as  little  effect  upon 
the  old  man  as  they  had  on  the  wayward  ^^outh.  If  there  is 
any  such  good  yet  in  store  for  me  as  you,  sir,  seem  to  desire,  it 
must  reach  me  at  last  in  virtue  of  my  birth  from  religious 
parentage,  which,  you  justly  observed,  it  has  been  my  lot  to 
have  as  a  birthright." 

By  this  time  it  was  late  in  the  evening,  and  the  clergyman 
rose  to  take  leave.  Burr  looked  Dr.  Mathews  steadily  in  the 
face,  and  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"I  am  far  from  being  wearied  of  this  conversation.  On  the 
contrary,  I  shall  preserve  a  grateful  recollection  of  it.  I  sin- 
cerely thank  you  for  this  visit,  and,  if  it  does  me  no  good,  I  am 
anxious  it  should  do  you  no  harm.  I  hope  that  you  will  not 
mistake  my  motive  in  what  I  am  about  to  say.  I  know  who 
some  of  the  men  are  to  whom  you  sustain  intimate  relations. 
They  entertain  the  most  imfavorable  opinion  of  me  in  e\QYy 
respect,  and  would  not  fail  to  mark  it  against  any  one  who 
should  treat  me  with  any  open  avowal  of  good-will  or  civility. 
It  would  be  to  your  detriment  if  such  men  should  see  you  accost 
me  in  the  public  street  with  the  expression  of  regard  that  your 
kindness  might  prompt.  When  we  meet  in  any  of  our  great 
thorouirhfares,  it  is  best  that  we  should  not  see  each  other.  Do 
you  understand  me  ?  " 

Dr.  Mathews  replied  that  he  appreciated  his  motive,  though 
he  could  not  see  the  necessity  of  such  a  course,  but  that  he 
would  regulate  his  conduct  by  the  wish  Col.  Burr  had  ex- 
pressed. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  "I  am  the  best  judge." 

He  accompanied  the  clergyman  to  the  door,  and,  at  parting, 


SCENE    IN    THE    LIFE     OF    AAKON    BURR.        12] 

gave  him  his  hand,  ^vhic'h  was  as  cold  as  a  dead  man's,  and  tho 
doctor  left  him,  feeling  that  his  visit  had  been  in  vain. 

In  Aaron  Burr  there  was  no  repentance.  To  the  end  of  his 
life  he  cherished  the  delusion  that  the  obloquy  under  which  ho 
rested  was  utterly  unjust,  and  he  often  laughed  at  tlie  public 
for  being  so  imposed  upon  by  his  "enemies"  as  to  believe  that 
Aaron  Burr  was  anything  but  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  honor. 
The  threat  which,  in  his  excitement,  he  let  fall,  respecting  tho 
estates  of  some  of  the  rich  men  of  the  city,  he  delayed  not  long 
to  execute,  and  he  gained  large  sums  by  bringing  suits  of  eject- 
ment against  men  who  had  never  doubted  the  sufficiency  of 
their  titles.  INlany  of  these  suits  were  decided  in  his  favor,  and 
he  took  a  share  of  the  recovered  property  as  his  fee. 


122  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


CHARLES   AVERY. 


In  the  sketch  of  the  French  fanatic,  Deacon  Paris,  we  hare 
seen  how  a  Frenchman  of  the  last  century  interpreted  his  duty 
to  God  and  man.  Deacon  Paris  supposed  he  was  pleasing  his 
Creator  by  self-inflicted  suflfering,  as  well  as  by  denying  himself 
innocent  pleasures.  Let  us  now  observe  in  what  manner  an 
American  citizen  of  the  present  time  behaves  when  his  con- 
science is  awakened,  and  he  sets  about  doing  his  whole  duty  as 
a  human  being. 

A  short  time  ago,  as  I  was  wandering  in  the  beautiful  cemetery 
of  Pittsburgh,  I  came  upon  a  monument  which  far  surpassed, 
both  in  costliness  and  beauty,  any  that  I  remember  in  the  west- 
ern country.  It  was  composed  chiefly  of  Italian  marble.  Upon 
the  summit,  high  in  the  air,  stood  an  admirable  full-length 
statue  of  the  person  in  whose  honor  the  structure  was  reared. 

He  was  a  stout  gentleman,  comfortably  dressed  in  the  modern 
style,  with  the  face  and  bearing  of  a  prosperous  man  of  the 
world.  Below,  on  the  tablet,  was  a  fine  bas-relief  in  which  the 
same  gentleman  figured  with  ships  and  other  indications  of 
commercial  activity.  What  was  my  surprise  to  be  informed, 
by  the  superintendent  of  the  grounds,  that  this  stately  monu- 
ment had  been  erected  to  the  memory  of  a  Methodist  j^reacher, 
Charles  Avery,  of  Pittsburgh  !  However  meritorious  Methodist 
preachers  may  be,  it  is  so  unusual  for  them  to  be  honored  aflei 
their  death  by  such  elegant  structures  as  this,  that  I  was  curious 
to  learn  what  this  man  had  done  in  his  life  that  he  should  be  so 
commemorated. 

Charles  Avery  was  born  in  Westchester  county,  New  York, 
iu  1784.  His  father  was  the  owner  of  a  small  farm,  and  the 
father  of  many  children ;    none  of  whom,  therefore,  had  any 


CUARLES     AVEllY.  123 

opportunities  of  education  but  the  district  scho(jl.  At  the  usual 
age,  Charles  Avery  left  the  paternal  homo,  and  began  the  -world 
iu  New  York  as  an  apothecary's  apprentice.  Of  his  early  life 
nothing  is  known,  except  that,  in  his  eighteenth  year,  he  joined 
the  ]\lethodist  church,  and,  in  so  doing,  dedicated  his  life  to  the 
service  of  his  fellow-men.  In  due  time  he  became  a  Methodist 
preacher,  though  it  does  not  appear  that  he  ever  had  charge  of 
a  church. 

During  the  war  of  1812  he  invested  his  capital  in  a  small 
cargo  of  drugs,  Avith  which  he  intended  to  emigrate  t(;  Pitts- 
burgh, and  there  establish  himself  in  business ;  but  this  vessel, 
on  the  voyage  to  Philadelphia,  was  w^reckcd,  and,  having  no  in- 
surance, he  lost  his  all.  Friends  came  to  his  assistance,  and 
being  furnished  again  with  a  little  capital,  he  proceeded  to  Pitts- 
burgh, where  he  engaged  in  the  business  of  selling  drugs  and 
manufacturing  white  lead.  At  that  time,  as  now,  almost  all  the 
white  lead  sold  in  the  United  States  was  adulterated  by  mixing 
with  it  whiting,  which  is  made  from  chalk,  and  costs  but  a  few 
cents  per  ton.  Charles  Avery  was  an  honest  man.  His  con- 
science would  not  permit  him  to  adulterate,  and  the  custom  of 
the  trade  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  sell  a  pure  article  at  a 
profit. 

"If,"  said  he,  "I  cannot  sell  a  good  article,  I  will  give  up  the 
business." 

Finally  he  gave  it  up,  and  embarked  his  capital  in  commodi- 
ties which  admitted  of  honest  treatment.  His  partners,  of 
whom  several  are  still  living,  declare  that,  during  a  long  busi- 
ness career,  he  never  deviated  in  a  single  instance  from  the 
strict  rule  of  rectitude,  and,  on  many  occasions,  sacrificed  his 
own  interests  rather  than  conform  to  the  corrupt  usages  of  trade. 
Nevertheless  he  prospered.  He  was  one  of  the  first  to  perceive 
the  value  of  the  copper  mines  of  Lake  Superior,  and  made  a 
fortune  by  dealing  in  their  products.  His  drug  business  in- 
creased also,  and  he  Avas  soon  ranked  among  the  first  business 
men  and  capitalists  of  Pittsburgh. 

If  this  had  been  all  it  is  not  probable  that  his  remains  would 
have  been  covered  by  the  monument  to  which  I  have  referred ; 
still  less  probable  is  it  that  a  passing  stranger  would  have  been 


124  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

at  the  pains  to  inquire  into  his  life  and  character.  But  this 
Charles  Averj,  it  appears,  "was  one  of  those  rare  and  happy 
men  who  regard  themselves,  not  as  the  owners,  but  as  the  stew- 
ards of  their  estate ;  and  while  3^et  living  he  dedicated  the  whole 
of  it  to  benevolent  works.  It  was  some  years,  however,  before 
it  was  settled  in  his  mind  what  particular  class  of  men  called  for 
most  of  his  assistance.  He  was  simply  known  in  Pittsburgh, 
for  a  long  period,  as  a  thriving  business  man  of  great  benevo- 
lence. He  took  pleasure  in  assisting  young  men  into  business ; 
he  contributed  liberally  to  colleges ;  he  gave  large  sums  for  the 
relief  of  the  poor ;  and  could  always  be  relied  upon  when  money 
was  needed  for  a  good  purpose. 

But  this  general  benevolence  did  not  satisfy  him.  He  needed 
a  special  object.  In  looking  around  the  country  for  a  sphere  for 
his  benevolence,  he  observed  one  great  class  of  human  beings 
more  destitute  of  what  makes  life  desirable  than  any  other ;  for 
they  were  ignorant,  and  it  was  a  crime  to  teach  them ;  they 
were  poor,  and  could  not  help  themselves ;  they  were  slaves, 
and  it  was  infamous  to  deliver  or  pity  them.  I  mean,  of  course, 
the  nes^roes  of  the  United  States.  To  assist  in  raisin f?  that 
degraded  race  his  life  and  fortune  were  devoted. 

Living,  as  he  did,  near  the  border  of  Virginia,  he  had  fre- 
quent opportunities  both  of  observing  the  condition  of  the  slaves 
and  of  assisting  those  who  had  made  their  escape.  He  was  also 
most  liberal  to  the  colored  people  of  Pittsburgh,  whom  he  fully 
recognized  as  men,  equal  to  himself  in  natural  rights  and  gifts. 
He  invited  them  to  his  own  table,  and  sat  at  theirs,  at  a  time 
when  it  cost  more  to  do  this  than  it  now  does.  Passinsf  uesrroes 
in  the  street,  he  saluted  them  with  the  same  respect  that  he 
showed  to  wdiite  men,  and  in  all  other  wavs  testified  his  reo^ard 
to  them  as  members  of  the  same  humau  family  with  himself. 

It  was  his  firm  conviction  that  nature  had  endowed  the  black 
man  Avith  capacities  equal  to  those  of  the  other  race,  and  it  was 
long  the  wish  of  his  heart  to  prove  this  by  actual  experiment. 
There  was  then  no  institution  of  learning  of  high  character  in 
the  United  States,  into  which  colored  youth  could  be  admitted — - 
without  ruin  to  the  institution ;  and  if  they  had  been  admitted, 


CIIATvLES     AVERY.  125 

not  one  white  student  in  a  thousand  would  havo  associated  Avitlj 
them  on  equal  terms. 

"The  mind  of  the  colored  man,"  Avery  Avould  say,  " v,\\] 
never  be  able  to  show  its  capacities  until  it  is  trained  in  an  insti- 
tution where  he  feels  himself  welcome,  at  home,  and  equal  ]jy 
nature  to  the  best." 

So  he  resolved  to  found  a  negro  college,  and  he  did  it.  lie 
did  it  in  his  own  lifetime,  and  for  several  years  Avas  president 
of  its  board  of  trustees.  A  majority  of  this  board  were  Ijlack 
men,  and  are  such  to  this  day.  ]\Iost  of  the  teachers  were  per- 
sons of  color,  and  are  to  this  day.  The  design  of  the  institu- 
tion was  to  furnish  a  complete  college  course  of  Latin,  Greek, 
Mathematics,  and  Science.  But  every  reader  is  aware  that,  in 
order  to  enter  upon  such  a  course,  a  long  period  of  preparation 
is  necessary.  A  white  boy  usually  spends  four  years  in  prepar- 
ing for  college.  Now,  when  this  college  was  started,  there  was 
not  probably  in  the  United  States  one  black  boy  fit  to  enter  the 
freshman  class  of  an  ordinary  college,  and,  consequently,  Mr. 
Avery  was  compelled  to  begin  by  establishing  a  preparatory 
school.  This  school,  which  was  composed  of  boys  and  girls, 
flourished  during  his  own  lifetime,  and  the  present  excellent 
character  of  the  colored  people  of  Pittsburgh  is  partly  due  to  it. 

Before  the  college  department  was  really  in  operation  this 
benevolent  man  died,  at  the  age  of  seventy-three,  leaving  a 
large  estate  to  benevolent  objects,  and  providing  especially  for 
the  maintenance  of  this  institution.  This  was  ten  years  ago. 
I  fear  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  colle^^e  has  laniruishcd  since 
the  death  of  its  founder,  or,  at  least,  has  not  advanced  beyond 
the  grade  of  a  preparatory  school.  It  enjoys  an  income  from 
Mr.  Avery's  estate  of  about  six  thousand  dollars  a  j^ear,  and 
there  is  no  incumbrance  upon  its  building.  A  small  charge  is 
also  made  for  tuition ;  and  yet  it  is  not  a  college.  About  fif- 
teen boys  and  twenty-five  3'oung  women  are  now  attending  it, 
some  of  whom  are  preparing  to  become  teachers,  and  the  school, 
under  the  management  of  Mr.  George  B.  Yashon,  is  doing  its 
l^art  of  the  educational  work  of  the  town  in  which  it  is  situ- 
ated. 

More  than  this  cannot  yet  be  said  of  it,  although  there  is 


126  PEOPLE'S    BOOK     OP     BIOGRAPHY. 

now  on  foot  a  movement  to  carry  out  the  collegiate  part  of  the 
founder's  scheme.  There  is,  however,  a  difficulty  in  the  way, 
which  Mr.  Avery,  perhaps,  did  not  sufficiently  consider.  What 
is  it  that  supports  Yale  and  Harvard,  and  the  other  great  col- 
leges of  the  country?  Why  do  so  many  hundreds  of  young 
men  go  to  these  institutions  ?  A  few  attend  them  simply  and 
solel}^  to  get  knowledge  and  improve  their  minds ;  but  the 
great  majority  do  so  because  a  college  education  raises  them  in 
the  social  scale,  and  leads  to  professional  life.  Youug  men  who 
expect  to  be  lawyers,  clergymen,  physicians,  go  to  college  as 
part  of  the  preparation  for  those  vocations,  and  they  are  sus- 
tained in  college  by  their  parents  or  other  relatives.  But  where 
are  the  colored  boys  whose  parents  can  affi)rd  to  maintain  them 
during  six  or  eight  years  of  a  preparatory  and  collegiate  courser 
And  where  are  the  colored  churches  w^hich  can  afford  the 
luxury  of  an  expensively  educated  pastor?  Where  is  the 
neighborhood  in  which  a  colored  lawyer  would  find  a  lucrative 
practice?  Where  is  the  community  capable  of  sustaining  an 
educated  colored  physician?  What  field  is  there,  in  short,  in 
the  United  States,  for  colored  men  of  talent  and  learning? 

The  time  may  be  at  hand  when  there  will  be  such  a  field ; 
but  it  has  not  yet  existed ;  and,  consequently,  the  Negro  Col- 
lege, founded  by  Charles  Avery,  exists  only  in  name.  Never- 
theless, it  has  done  good ;  it  is  now  educating  female  teachers, 
and  it  may,  by  and  by,  develop  itself  into  the  Harvard  of  the 
colored  race. 

The  benevolence  of  Charles  Avery  was  not  confined  to  col- 
ored people.  Once,  when  he  was  on  a  visit  to  New  York,  he 
observed  one  of  our  large  barges,  which  are  built  to  be  towed 
by  steamboats,  and  which  are  often  used  for  school-excursions 
in  the  summer.  It  was  at  a  time  when  the  explosions  of  the 
high-pressure  steamboats  on  the  western  rivers  were  numerous 
and  appalling,  and  it  occurred  to  Mr.  Avery  that  the  danger 
could  be  obviated  by  introducing  the  barge  system.  He  built  a 
barge  at  great  expense,  fitted  it  up  for  passengers  and  freight, 
and  the  experiment  was  tried.  But  no  sooner  had  the  barge 
got  under  way,  towed  by  a  steamboat,  than  it  became  evident 
that  the  craft  was  not  adapted  to  the  abrupt  bends  and  devious 


CHAKLES    AVERY.  ]27 

wa3'S  of  such  a  river  as  the  Ohio.  AVith  great  difficulty  and 
some  danger,  the  unwieldy  vessel  was  navigated  as  far  as  Cincin- 
nati, where  the  barge  was  sold,  and  the  system  was  abandoned. 
Even  the  steamboat,  which  pursued  its  course  down  the  river, 
was  run  aground  by  an  incompetent  pilot,  and  mouldered  away 
till  it  disappeared. 

Since  that  day,  however,  the  experiment  has  been  success- 
fully repeated,  and  the  system  is  now  established  on  all  tho 
great  western  rivers. 

The  day  after  his  death,  as  one  of  the  teach(;rs  in  his  college 
was  walking  along  the  streets,  he  heard  a  white  boy  taunting 
some  colored  ones  with  :  — 

"Ah,  ah,  you  niggers,  your  god  is  dead  !  your  god  is  dead  !  " 

But  the  immense  assemblai2:c  at  his  funeral  was  a  strikinc: 
proof  of  the  universal  estimation  in  which  he  was  held.  Ilis 
business  friends  were  there,  to  testify  their  respect  for  one 
whose  talents  and  generosity  were  knowni  to  them.  The  widows 
whom  his  bounty  had  fed,  and  the  colored  men  whose  minds 
through  him  had  been  instructed,  followed  the  train.  The  mon- 
ument which  stands  so  conspicuously  in  the  Pittsburgh  ceme- 
tery w^as  erected,  I  regret  to  say,  at  the  expense  of  his  own 
estate.  The  colored  men,  who  permitted  this  diversion  of  so 
much  money  for  a  purpose  foreign  to  the  character  of  their  bene- 
factor, ^vould  have  honored  him  more,  and  their  race  more, 
by  confining  the  revenues  of  their  fund  to  the  objects  specified 
in  the  will  of  the  donor.  If  he  must  have  had  a  monument,  it 
should  have  been  erected  at  the  expense  of  the  race  which  he 
benefited. 

By  comparing  the  French  fanatic.  Deacon  Paris,  w^ith  the 
American  Methodist,  Charles  Avery,  we  can  have  some  idea 
how  the  world  has  advanced  in  a  hundred  and  fift}^  years. 
Francis  Paris  sought  to  save  his  soul  by  tormenting  his  body ; 
Charles  Avery  occupied  himself  chiefly  with  scheme*  to  benefit 
the  souls  and  bodies  of  other  men. 


J28  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 


WAS  BENJAMIN  FRAi^KLIN  MEAN? 


Jeffersox  Davis  thinks  he  was.  He  is  reported  to  have  said, 
lately,  that  Dr.  Franklin  was  "the  incarnation  of  the  New 
England  character,  —  hard,  calculating,  angular,  unable  to  con- 
ceive any  higher  object  than  the  accumulation  of  money." 
There  are  many  other  people  who,  though  they  honor  the 
memory  of  Franklin,  have  received  the  impression  that,  in 
money  matters,  he  was  very  close  and  saving.  To  correct  this 
error,  I  will  now  briefly  relate  his  pecuniary  history,  from  bi5 
boyhood  to  his  death,  showing  how  he  got  his  money,  how  much 
of  it  he  got,  and  what  he  did  with  it. 

I  will  begin  with  the  first  pecuniary  transaction  in  which  he 
is  known  to  have  been  concerned,  and  this  shall  be  given  in  his 
own  words :  — 

"When  I  was  a  child  of  seven  years  old,  my  friends,  on  ?• 
holiday,  filled  my  pockets  with  coppers.  I  went  directly  to  a 
shop  where  they  sold  toys  for  children ;  and  being  charmed 
with  the  sound  of  a  whistle,  that  I  met  by  the  way  in  the  hands 
of  another  boy,  I  voluntanly  offei^ed  and  gave  all  my  money  for 
one" 

That  was  certainly  not  the  act  of  a  stingy,  calculating  boy. 

His  next  purchase,  of  which  we  have  any  knowledge,  was 
made  when  he  was  about  eleven  years  old ;  and  this  time,  I 
must  confess,  he  made  a  much  better  bargain.  The  first  book 
he  could  ever  call  his  own  was  a  copy  of  Pilgrim's  Progress, 
which  he  read,  and  re-read,  until  he  had  got  from  it  all  that  so 
young  a  person  could  understand.  But  being  exceedingly  fond 
of  reading,  he  exchanged  his  Pilgrim's  Progress  for  a  set  of 
little  books,  then  much  sold  by  peddlers,  called  "Burton's  His- 
torical Collections,"  in  forty  paper-covered  volumes,  containing 


WAS    EENJAMIN    FRANKLIN    MEAN?  120 

history,  travels,  talcs,  Avondcrs  and  curiosities;  ju^.t  the  thing 
for  a  boy.  As  wo  do  not  know  the  market  value  of  his  Pil- 
grim's Progress,  we  cannot  tell  whether  the  poor  peddler  did 
well  by  Iiim,  or  the  contrary.  But,  it  strikos  me,  that  that  is 
not  the  kind  of  barter  in  which  a  mean,  grasping  boy  usually 
cns^aiijcs. 

Ilis  father  being  a  poor  soap-and-candlc  maker,  with  a  dozen 
children  or  more  to  support  or  assist,  and  Benjamin  being  a 
printer's  apprentice,  he  w^as  more  and  more  puzzled  to  gratify 
his  love  of  knowledge.  But,  one  day,  he  hit  upon  an  expedient 
that  brought  in  a  little  cash.  By  reading  a  vegetarian  l)ook, 
this  hard,  calculating  Yankee  lad  had  been  led  to  think  that 
people  could  live  better  without  meat  than  with  it,  and  that 
killins:  innocent  animals  for  food  was  cruel  and  wicked.  So  he 
abstained  from  meat  altogether  for  about  two  years.  As  this 
led  to  some  inconvenience  at  his  boarding-house,  he  made  this 
cunning  proposition  to  his  master  :  — 

"  Give  me  one  half  the  money  you  pay  for  my  board,  and  T 
will  board  myself." 

The  master  consenting,  the  apprentice  lived  entirely  upon 
Buch  things  as  hominy,  bread,  rice  and  potatoes,  and  found  that 
he  could  actually  live  upon  half  of  the  half.  AYhat  did  the  cal- 
culating wretch  do  with  the  money !  Put  it  into  his  money- 
box?    No  ;  he  laid  it  all  out  in  the  improvement  of  his  mind. 

When,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  he  landed  at  Philadelphia,  a 
runaway  apprentice,  he  had  one  silver  dollar,  and  one  shilling 
in  copper  coin.  It  was  a  fine  Sunday  morning,  as  probably  the 
reader  remembers,  and  he  knew  not  a  soul  in  the  place.  He 
asked  the  boatmen  upon  whose  boat  he  had  come  down  the 
Delaware,  how  much  he  had  to  pay.  They  answered,  Nothing, 
because  he  had  helped  them  row.  Franklin,  however,  insisted 
upon  their  taking  his  shilling's  worth  of  coppers,  and  forced 
the  money  upon  them.  An  hour  after,  having  bought  three 
rolls  for  his  breakfast,  he  ate  one,  and  gave  the  other  two  to  a 
poor  woman  and  her  child,  who  had  been  his  fellow-passengers. 
These  were  small  things,  you  may  say;  but,  remembei,  he  was 
a  poor,  ragged,  dirty  runaway,  in  a  strange  town,  four  hundred 


130  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 

miles  from  a  friend,  with  three  pence  gone  out  of  the  only  dollar 
he  had  in  the  world. 

Next  year,  when  he  went  home  to  see  his  parents,  w^ith  his 
pocket  full  of  money,  a  new  suit  of  clothes  and  a  watch,  one  of 
his  oldest  Boston  friends  was  so  much  pleased  with  Franklin's 
account  of  Philadelj^hia,  that  he  determined  to  go  back  with 
him.  On  the  journey  Franklin  discovered  that  his  friend  had 
become  a  slave  to  drink.  He  was  sorely  plagued  and  disgraced 
by  him,  and,  at  last,  the  young  drunkard  had  spent  all  his 
money,  and  had  no  way  of  getting  on  except  by  Franklin's  aid. 
This  hard,  calculating,  mercenary  youth  —  did  he  seize  the 
chance  of  shaking  off  a  most  troublesome  and  injurious  travel- 
ling companion?  Strange  to  relate,  he  stuck  to  his  old  friend, 
shared  his  purse  with  him  till  it  was  empty,  and  then  began  on 
some  money  which  he  had  been  entrusted  with  for  another,  and 
so  got  him  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  still  assisted  him.  It  was 
seven  years  before  Franklin  was  able  to  pay  all  the  debt  incurred 
by  him  to  aid  this  old  friend ;  for  abandoning  whom  few  would 
have  blamed  him. 

A  year  after,  he  was  in  a  still  worse  difficulty  from  a  similar 
cause.  He  went  to  London  to  buy  types  and  a  press  w^ith  which 
to  establish  himself  in  business  at  Philadelphia,  — the  Governor 
of  Pennsylvania  having  promised  to  furnish  the  mone3\  One 
of  the  passengers  on  the  ship  was  a  young  friend  of  Franklin's, 
named  James  Ralph,  with  whom  he  had  often  studied,  and  of 
whom  he  was  exceedingly  fond.  Ralph  gave  out  that  he,  too, 
was  proceeding  to  London  to  make  arrangements  for  going  into 
business  for  himself  at  Philadelphia.  The  young  friends  arrived 
—  Franklin  nineteen,  and  Ralph  a  married  man  with  two  chil- 
dren. On  reaching  London,  Franklin  learned,  to  his  amaze- 
ment and  dismay,  that  the  Governor  had  deceived  him,  that  nu 
money  was  to  be  expected  from  him,  and  that  he  must  go  to 
work  and  earn  his  living  at  his  trade.  No  sooner  had  he  learned 
this  than  James  Ralph  gave  him  another  piece  of  stunning 
intelli,2:ence :  namel^s  that  he  had  run  away  from  his  family, 
and  meant  to  settle  in  London  a«?  a  poet  and  author ! 

Franklin  had  ten  pounds  in  his  pocket  and  knew  a  trade. 
Ralph  had  no   money  and  knew  no  trade.     They  were  both 


WAS    BENJAMIN    TRANKLIN    MEAN?  131 

strangers  in  a  strange  cit}-.  Xow,  in  such  circinnstances,  Aviiat 
would  a  mean,  calculating  young  man  have  done  ?  Reader,  you 
know  very  well,  without  my  telling  you.  What  Franklin  did 
was  this :  he  shared  his  purse  with  his  friend  until  his  ten 
pounds  were  all  gone ;  and,  having  at  once  got  work  at  his 
trade,  he  kept  on  dividing  his  wages  with  Ralph  until  he  had 
advanced  him  thirty-six  pounds,  — half  a  year's  income,  —  not  a 
penny  of  which  was  ever  repaid.  And  this  he  did,  — the  cold- 
blooded wretch  !  —  because  he  could  not  help  loving  his  bril- 
liant, unprincipled  comrade,  though  disapproving  his  conduct 
and  sadly  needing  his  money. 

Having  returned  to  Philadelphia,  he  set  up  in  business  as  a 
printer  and  editor,  and,  after  a  very  severe  effort,  he  got  his 
business  well  established,  and,  at  last,  had  the  most  profitable 
establishment  of  the  kind  in  all  America.  Durins:  the  most 
active  part  of  his  business  life,  he  always  found  some  time 
for  the  promotion  of  public  objects ;  he  founded  a  most  useful 
nnd  public-spirited  club,  a  public  library  which  still  exists,  and 
assieted  in  every  worthy  scheme.  He  was  most  generous  to 
his  poorer  relations,  hospitable  to  his  fellow-citizens,  and  par- 
ticularly interested  in  the  welfare  of  his  journeymen,  many  of 
whom  he  set  up  in  business. 

The  most  decisive  proof,  however,  which  he  ever  gave,  that 
he  did  not  overvalue  money,  was  his  retirement  from  a  most 
profitable  business  for  the  purpose  of  having  leisure  to  pursue 
his  philosophical  studies.  He  had  been  in  business  twenty 
years,  and  he  was  still  in  the  prime  of  life — forty-six  years  of  age. 
He  was  making  money  faster  than  any  other  printer  on  this 
continent.  But,  being  exceedingl}^  desirous  of  spending  the 
rest  of  his  da3's  in  study  and  experiment,  and  having  saved  a 
moderate  competency,  he  sold  his  establishment  to  his  foreman 
on  very  easy  terms,  and  withdrew.  His  estate,  when  he  re- 
tired, was  worth  about  a  hundred  thousand  of  our  present 
greenback  dollars.  If  he  had  been  a  lover  of  mone}',  I  am 
confident  that  he  could  and  would  have  accumulated  one  of  the 
largest  fortunes  in  America.  He  had  nothing  to  do  but  con- 
tinue in  business,  and  take  care  of  his  investments,  to  roll  up  a 
prodigious  estate.     But  not  having  the  slightest  taste  for  need- 


132  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

less  accumulation,  he  joyfully  laid  aside  the  cares  of  business, 
and  spent  the  whole  of  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  the  service 
of  his  country  ;  for  he  gave  up  his  heart's  desire  of  devoting  his 
leisure  to  philosophy  when  his  country  needed  him. 

Being  in  London  when  Captain  Cook  returned  from  his  first 
voyage  to  the  Pacific,  he  entered  warmly  into  a  beautiful  scheme 
for  sending  a  ship  for  the  purpose  of  stocking  the  islands  there 
with  pigs,  vegetables,  and  other  useful  animals  and  products.  A 
hard,  selfish  man  would  have  laughed  such  a  project  to  scorn. 

In  1776,  when  he  was  appointed  ambassador  of  the  revolted 
colonies  to  the  French  king,  the  ocean  swarmed  Avith  British 
cruisers.  General  Washington  had  lost  New  York,  and  the  pros- 
pects of  the  Revolution  were  gloomy  in  the  extreme.  Dr. 
Franklin  w^as  an  old  man  of  seventy,  and  might  justly  have 
asked  to  be  excused  from  a  service  so  perilous  and  fatiguing. 
But  he  did  not.  He  went.  And,  just  before  he  sailed,  he  got 
together  all  the  money  he  could  raise  —  about  three  thousand 
pounds  —  and  invested  it  in  the  loan  recently  announced  by 
Congress.  This  he  did  at  a  moment  when  few  men  had  a 
hearty  faith  in  the  success  of  the  Revolution.  This  he  did  when 
he  was  going  to  a  foreign  country  that  might  not  receive  him, 
from  which  he  might  be  expelled,  and  he  have  no  country  to 
return  to.  There  never  was  a  more  gallant  and  generous  act 
done  by  an  old  man. 

In  France  he  was  as  much  the  main  stay  of  the  cause  of  his 
country,  as  General  Washington  was  at  home.  And  who  were 
the  people,  by  whose  restless  vanity  and  all-clutching  meanness 
his  efibrts  w^ere  almost  frustrated  in  Paris?  Arthur  Lee  £s.nd 
William  Lee,  of  Virginia,  and  Ralph  Izard,  of  South  Carolina! 

Returning  home  after  the  war,  he  was  elected  President  of 
Pennsylvania  for  three  successive  years,  at  a  salary  of  l.wo 
thousand  pounds  a  year.  But  by  this  time  he  had  become  t^  on- 
vinced  that  offices  of  honor,  such  as  the  governorship  c  f  a 
State,  ought  not  to  have  any  salary  attached  to  them.  He 
thought  they  should  be  filled  by  persons  of  independent  incc  ne, 
willing  to  serve  their  fellow-citizens  from  benevolence,  oi  for 
the  honor  of  it.  So  thinking,  he,  at  first,  determined  nc  to 
lereive  any  salary;  but  this  being  objected  to,  he  devcted  the 


WAS    BENJAMIN    PRANKLIN    MEAN?  133 

whole  of  the  sahiry  for  three  years  —  six  thousand  pounds  —  to 
tlie  furthcrauce  of  public  objects.  Part  of  it  he  gave  to  a 
college,  and  part  was  set  aside  for  the  improvement  of  tho 
Schuylkill  River. 

Is^ever  was  au  eminent  man  more  thoughtful  of  the  lowly 
people  who  were  the  companions  of  his  poverty.  Dr.  Franklin, 
from  the  midst  of  the  splendors  of  the  French  court,  and  when 
he  was  the  most  famous  and  admired  person  in  Europe,  forgot 
not  his  poor  old  sister,  Jane,  who  was,  in  part,  dependent 
upon  his  bounty.  He  gave  her  a  house  in  Boston,  and  sent  her, 
every  September,  the  money  to  lay  in  her  Avintcr's  fuel  and  pro- 
visions. He  wrote  her  the  kindest,  wittiest,  pleasantest  letters. 
** Believe  me,  dear  brother,"  she  writes,  "your  writing  to  me 
gives  me  so  much  pleasure,  that  the  great,  the  very  great,  pres- 
ents you  have  sent  me  give  me  but  a  secondary  joy." 

How  exceedingly  absurd  to  call  such  a  man  **hard"  and 
miserly,  because  he  recommended  people  not  to  waste  their 
money  !  Let  me  tell  you,  reader,  that  if  a  man  means  to  be 
liberal  and  generous,  he  7nust  be  economical.  No  people  are  so 
mean  as  the  extravagant ;  because,  spending  all  they  have  upon 
themselves,  they  have  nothing  left  for  others.  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin was  the  most  consistently  generous  man  of  whom  I  have  any 
knowledge. 


13i  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


THE    BROTHERS    MONTGOLFIER. 

INVENTORS  OF  THE  BALLOON. 


There  lived,  a  hundred  years  ago,  iu  the  South  of  France,  a 
venerable  man  named  Montgolfier,  owner  of  a  large  paper 
mill,  which  gave  employment  to  a  great  number  of  men  and 
women,  to  whom  the  aged  proprietor  was  more  like  a  patriarch 
than  a  mere  employer.  TWs  good  old  man,  who  lived  to  the 
age  of  ninety-three,  had  two  sons,  Stephen  and  Joseph,  who  re- 
lieved him  of  the  cares  of  business,  and  conducted  the  paper 
works  with  the  same  energy  and  the  same  regard  for  the  hap- 
piness and  dignity  of  the  operatives  which  had  made  their  father 
so  much  honored  and  beloved  in  all  that  region.  These  young 
men,  from  their  youth  up,  had  been  as  studious  and  observant 
as  they  were  virtuous.  With  little  aid  from  instructors,  they 
had  acquired  by  reading  and  private  study  a  great  fund  of  knowl- 
edge, Stephen  being  particularly  devoted  to  mathematics,  and 
Joseph  to  natural  philosophy  and  chemistry.  They  were  tall 
and  athletic,  noble  in  their  carriage  and  demeanor,  of  sedate 
but  cheerful  aspect.  We  could  style  them  princes  of  industry, 
if  the  word  prince  did  not  bring  to  mind  the  inferiority  of  the 
best  princes  to  such  youths  as  these. 

In  the  course  of  their  studies,  they  had  read  of  many  attempts 
that  had  been  made  to  navigate  the  air.  They  had  read,  per- 
haps, and  laughed  as  they  read,  of  the  winged  angels  which,  in 
the  dark  ages,  ingenious  priests  had  attempted  to  make  ascend 
to  heaven  in  the  sight  of  their  credulous  flocks  ;  of  the  Italian 
adventurer  who  leaped,  with  wings  at  his  back,  from  the  summit 
of  a  Scottish  castle,  and  broke  his  thigh-bone  in  his  fall ;  of  the 
monk,  Albert  of  Saxony,  who,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  first  sug 
gested  the  notion  of  inflating  a  globe  with  something  lighter  than 


THE  BROTHERS  MONTGOLFIER.        135 

eoininoii  air  ;  of  the  Jesuit,  Caspar  Schott,  who  proposed  to  ascend 
a  very  lii<>li  mouiitaiii  and  ])rinir  down  an  inunense  l)airrul  of  tlie 
thin  air  of  the  mountain-top  for  the  purpose  ;  of  another  Jesuit, 
who  conceived  a  project  of  sending  aloft  a  great  numljcr  of  in- 
flated copper  globes,  with  armed  men  attached  to  them,  who 
could  rain  down  fire  and  death  upon  an  enemy's  city ;  of  the 
friar,  Joseph  Gallon^  j)rofesso7'  of  natural pldlosopJiy  in  France^ 
who,  as  late  as  1755,  published  in  great  detail  a  scheme  for 
makiiiir  a  sailcloth  ba^j,  three  miles  in  circumference,  which, 
when  inflated  with  mountain  air,  he  thought,  would  convey  a 
whole  army,  with  all  its  munitions  and  baggage,  and  land  them 
comfortably  in  an  enemy's  country.  The  perusal  of  these  sub- 
lime projects  must  have  made  them  laugh ;  but,  doubtless,  it 
had  some  effect  in  directing  their  attention  to  the  sul)ject  of 
aerial  navigation. 

Nature  is  our  great  teacher.  Nature  gives  the  hint ;  observant 
and  thoughtful  men  follow  it  up.  It  was  while  watching  and 
conversing  about  the  clouds  that  these  young  men  first  conceived 
the  idea  of  a  practicable  balloon.  The  clouds  rose  to  the  upper 
regions  and  floated  there,  simply  because  they  were  lighter  than 
the  lower  air;  why,  then,  could  they  not  make  an  artificial 
cloud,  and  send  it  up  enclosed  in  a  bag?  The}^  first  attempted 
to  do  this  by  filling  a  paper  balloon  with  hydrogen  gas.  It  rose 
slowly  to  the  ceiling  of  their  parlor ;  but,  owning  to  the  rapid 
escape  of  the  gas,  it  remained  there  but  a  few  seconds,  and  then 
descended  to  the  floor.  They  tried  this  experiment  frequently ; 
but  no  bag  which  they  could  make  would  retain  this  ethereal 
gas  long  enough  for  their  purpose. 

They  then  thought  of  the  rapid  ascent  of  common  smoke. 
Their  bag  of  cloud  had  failed ;  why  not  try  a  bag  of  smoke  ? 
In  November,  1782,  Joseph  ]Montgolfier,  while  spending  a  few 
days  from  home,  procured  a  large  silk  bag,  balloon-shaped,  with 
an  opening  at  the  bottom.  Making  a  fire  of  paper,  he  caused 
his  balloon  to  be  held  over  it,  so  as  to  receive  the  smoke  and 
hot  air.  Very  soon  he  had  the  delight  of  seeing  the  balloon 
swell,  until  it  was  fully  distended.  AVhen  it  was  let  go,  it 
mounted  rapidly  to  the  height  of  seventy-five  feet,  there  re 
mained  stationary  for  several  minutes,  and  then  slowly  descended 


136  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

to  the  earth.  Overjoyed  at  this  result,  Joseph  hastened  to  cora- 
municate  it  to  his  brother,  and  they  proceeded  immediately  to 
try  the  experiment  on  a  larger  scale. 

A  globe  of  coarse  linen,  thirty  feet  in  diameter,  lined  with 
their  own  paper,  was  soon  ready  for  trial.  A  fire  was  lighted 
and  the  balloon  was  suspended  over  it.  The  inflation  proceeded 
rapidly  until  it  required  the  strength  of  three  men  to  hold  the 
balloon  down,  and  when  it  was  let  go  it  leaped  into  the  air  at  a 
prodigious  speed,  and  soared  as  high  as  the  lower  stratum  of 
clouds,  when  it  was  wafted  by  the  Avind  beyond  their  gaze. 

Having  brought  their  invention  to  this  point,  the  brothers 
determined  to  give  a  public  exhibition.  On  a  beautiful  day  in 
June,  1783,  a  great  concourse  of  people  attended  to  witness  it. 
A  body  of  learned  men,  who  chanced  to  be  in  session  in  a  neigh- 
boring town,  wxre  present,  as  well  as  all  the  nobility  of  the  vi- 
cinity ;  for  that  was  a  time  when  it  was  the  fashion  to  show  an 
interest  in  science.  A  large  balloon  of  linen  hung  loose  from 
three  crossed  poles,  with  the  orifice  toward  the  ground.  A  fire 
of  small  bundles  of  chopped  straw  was  lighted,  which  generated 
smoke  so  fiist,  that,  in  five  minutes,  the  balloon  looked  as  though 
it  would  burst,  and  it  was  all  that  eight  stout  men  could  do  to 
hold  it.  The  signal  being  given,  the  men  let  go,  and  the  bal- 
loon rose  rapidly,  and  with  an  accelerating  motion,  amid  the 
huzzas  of  the  multitude.  It  continued  to  ascend  until  it  had 
reached  the  height  of  a  mile,  where  it  was  caught  by  the  wind 
and  carried  away  to  a  vineyard  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  start- 
ing-place. The  assembly  were  transported  with  wonder  and 
delight,  and  hailed  the  brothers  as  men  who  had  done  honor  to 
France  by  a  grand  discovery. 

A  report  of  this  exhibition  was  transmitted  to  Paris,  and 
thence  to  the  other  great  cities  of  Europe.  The  war  between 
France,  England,  and  the  United  States  having  just  ended, 
this  new  marvel  excited  all  minds,  and  it  was  at  once  resolved 
at  Paris  to  repeat  the  experiment.  A  subscription  was  started 
to  defray  the  expense,  which  was  immediately  filled.  The 
venerable  Franklin,  then  the  most  honored  name  in  Europe, 
was  one  of  the  subscribers.  On  the  27th  of  August,  1783,  the 
day  appointed  for  the  ascent,  the  Champ  do  Mars,  the  streets. 


THE    BROTHERS    MONTGOLFIER.  i:]7 

and  the  very  house-tops  of  Paris,  were  covered  with  spectators, 
oil  the  tiptoe  of  expectation.  The  discharge  of  a  cannon  wa^ 
the  signal  for  letting  go  the  balloon.  Fully  inilated  with  hy- 
drogen gas,  and  having  no  ballast,  it  darted  into  the  air  as 
though  it  had  been  shot  from  a  monster  gun.  At  the  height  of 
3,000  feet,  it  was  lost  to  view  in  a  dark  cloud,  ])ut  soon  re- 
appeared above  the  cloud,  and  entered  clouds  still  higher,  until 
it  was  a  mere  speck  against  the  sky.  Borne  swiftly  by  the 
wind,  it  was  carried  away  beyond  the  view  of  the  enthusiastic 
multitude,  and  descended,  in  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  into  a 
field  fifteen  miles  distant.  Such  was  the  eagerness  of  the 
people  to  follow  its  course,  that  they  stood,  as  long  as  it  was 
in  sight,  in  a  pouring  rain,  perfectly  absorbed  in  the  spectacle. 
Fine  ladies,  in  open  carriages,  in  all  the  splendor  of  fashionable 
attire,  sat  regardless  of  the  ruin  of  their  costly  garments. 
Paris,  that  city  of  excitements,  has  seldom  been  in  such  a 
ferment  as  on  that  day. 

But  a  greater  marvel  was  to  come.  Joseph  ]Montgolfier 
visited  Paris  to  repeat  his  experiment  under  the  auspices  of  the 
National  Academy.  On  the  19th  of  September,  on  a  platform 
in  front  of  the  palace  of  Versailles,  a  linen  balloon,  gayly 
printed  and  decorated,  was  ready  for  inflation  by  smoke.  A 
basket  was  attached  to  it,  in  which  were  a  sheep,  a  cock,  and  a 
duck.  This  balloon  was  seventy-five  feet  high  and  forty-three 
feet  wide,  —  the  largest  that  had  yet  been  made.  The  sound 
of  a  cannon  at  one  o'clock  announced  to  the  vast  crowd  that 
the  fires  were  li2:hted  and  the  inflation  be^un.  Eleven  minutes 
after,  a  second  gun  informed  them  that  the  balloon  was  full. 
At  the  sound  of  a  third,  the  ropes  were  cut,  and  the  balloon, 
■with  its  living  freight,  rose  slowly  and  majestically  to  the 
height  of  fifteen  hundred  feet,  and  then  descended  obliquely  to 
the  earth  at  a  distance  of  two  miles.  The  animals  wxro 
unhurt.     The  sheep  was  found  composedly  feeding  in  a  field. 

The  striking  success  of  this  experiment  led  to  one  still  more 
remarkable.  Joseph  Montgolfier  made  a  new  balloon  of  the 
same  dimensions  as  the  last,  but  of  much  more  solid  and  care- 
ful construction,  and  provided  it  with  a  larger  car  of  basket- 
work.     One  day  in  Xovember,  1783,  while  the   inventor  was 


138  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

making  an  experimeutal  inflation,  a  gallant  young  naturalist, 
Pilatre  cle  Rosier  by  name,  leaped  into  the  car,  and  the  balloon 
was  allowed  to  ascend  to  the  height  of  three  hundred  feet, 
where  it  was  held  b}^  a  rope  for  a  while,  and  then  drawn  down. 
This  determined  the  young  man  to  attempt  an  ascent.  A 
major  in  the  French  army,  the  Marquis  d'Arlandes,  volunteered 
to  join  him  in  the  daring  and  perilous  adventure.  November 
the  21st,  all  Paris  was  again  abroad  to  view  the  spectacle. 
The  sky  was  lowering  and  the  wind  was  high.  Provided  w^ith 
plenty  of  sand-ballast,  and  with  straw  to  renew  the  inflation, 
the  two  brave  young  men  took  their  places  in  the  car,  and  the 
ropes  were  cut.  A  gust  of  wdnd  caught  the  balloon  before  it 
had  cleared  the  houses,  and  the  adventurers  narrowly  escaped 
destruction  by  being  dashed  against  them.  The  balloon  was 
secured,  however,  and  drawn  to  the  earth.  Undisma^^ed  by 
this  mishap,  they  again  entered  the  car,  and  the  balloon  w-as  a 
second  time  let  go.  The  wind  had  lulled,  and  the  balloon  now 
rose  steadily  and  slowly  almost  in  a  perpendicular  line,  while 
the  navigators  waved  their  hats,  and  a  universal  cheer  broke 
from  the  multitude  below.  Wonder,  admiration,  and  affright 
were  expressed  in  every  countenance.  The  balloon  continued 
to  ascend,  now  lost  in  a  cloud,  now  reappearing  above  it,  now 
shining  in  the  sun,  now  eclipsing  that  luminary  by  floating 
between  it  and  the  spectators,  until  it  diminished  to  a  speck, 
and  was  finally  lost  to  sight.  Meanwhile  the  aerial  travellers 
fed  their  fire  and  inflated  their  balloon  until,  in  the  thin  air  of 
the  upper  region,  it  threatened  to  burst.  It  caught  fire,  but  a 
wet  sponge  sufficed  to  extinguish  the  flames.  The  soldier,  it  is 
said,  w^as  the  first  to  propose  to  descend,  alarmed  by  the  ex- 
cessive inflation,  and  the  noise  of  the  expanding  linen.  The 
naturalist  at  length  yielded  to  his  entreaties,  the  fire  was 
extinguished,  and  the  balloon  descended  rapidly  toward  the 
city.  To  escape  the  house-tops  they  w^ere  compelled  to  light 
their  fire  again,  and  they  hovered  over  Paris  for  some  minutes 
before  a  timely  breeze  wafted  them  beyond  the  walls.  They 
alighted  in  perfect  safety,  after  a  flight  of  twenty-five  minutes. 
These  aeronauts  were,  of  course,  the  lions  of  the  hour,  and 
the  W'hole  world  rang  willi  their  names.     Since  Franklin  had 


TUE    BROTnERS     MONTGOLFIER.  lol) 

flown  bis  electrical  kite  at  Phihidelpliia,  no  scientific  event  liad 
so  startled  and  amazed  mankind.  The  ])rothers  Montgolticr 
were  rewarded  by  tbc  government  witb  pensions  and  decora- 
tions, and  a  sum  of  forty  tbousand  francs  was  given  them 
to  enable  them  to  continue  their  experiments. 

Thus  balloons  were  invented.  Except  that  gas  is  now  em- 
ployed in  their  inflation,  the  invention  remains  in  18G8  at  the 
point  to  which  these  brothers  brought  it  in  17>S3.  A  balloon  is 
a  costly  machine,  and  it  is  easily  destroyed.  To  carry  the  in- 
vention further,  demands  such  a  combin/ition  of  courage, 
ingenuity,  and  capital,  that  a  century  may  ^et  elapse  before  it 
is  advanced  another  stage.  It  is  reasonable,  however,  to 
expect  that  the  day  will  come  when  the  invention  of  the  ]Mon- 
golfiers  will  And  its  AVatt  to  bring  it  to  peifection,  and  its 
Fulton  to  turn  it  to  account. 

Stephen  Montgolfier  died  in  1799.  Josepn  spent  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life  in  scientific  investigations,  in  the  course  of 
which  he  invented  the  hydraulic  ram.     He  died  in  1810. 


140  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


JAMES  WATT. 


How  much  more  marvellous  is  truth  than  fiction !  The  story 
of  Aladdin  and  his  wonderful  lamp  is  as  extravagant  a  tale  as 
the  fancy  of  man  has  contrived ;  but  it  is  a  tame  and  probable 
narrative  compared  with  some  of  the  facts  of  science  and  in- 
vention. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1765,  one  hundred  and  three  years  ago, 
on  a  certain  Sunday  afternoon,  a  poor,  sickly  mechanic  was  tak- 
ing a  walk  in  one  of  the  public  grounds  of  Glasgow.  He  was  a 
mathematical  instrument-maker,  who  kept  a  very  small  shop 
within  the  grounds  of  the  Glasgow  University,  and  derived  & 
great  part  of  his  little  income  from  repairing  the  philosophical 
apparatus  of  that  famous  institution.  His  brother  mechanics 
were  not  veiy  friendly  toward  him,  because  he  had  set  up  in 
business  without  having  served  a  regular  apprenticeship.  In 
fact,  but  for  the  special  favor  of  the  professors  of  the  Univer- 
sity, who  let  to  him  his  little  shop  in  its  grounds,  he  could  not 
have  carried  on  his  trade  in  Glaso:ow  at  all.  Beino'  thus  a  kind 
of  interloper,  his  business  was  so  limited  that  he  could  only 
draw  from  it,  for  his  own  maintenance,  fourteen  shillings  a 
week,  which  is,  in  our  currency,  about  three  dollars  and  a  half. 

He  was  in  a  brown  study  as  he  walked  in  Glasgow  Green  that 
Sunday  afternoon.  Ingenious  mechanics  will  understand  his 
case  when  we  tell  them  that  he  had  on  hand  at  his  shop  a  puz- 
zling jobj  and  he  was  thinking  how  to  overcome  the  difficulties 
which  it  presented.  All  at  once,  at  a  point  in  the  road  which 
the  people  of  Glasgow  still  point  out  to  travellers,  the  solution 
of  the  puzzle  occurred  to  his  mind.  It  flashed  on  him  like 
lightning,  and  he  walked  home  relieved  and  happy. 


JAMES     T^ATT.  Ill 

All  this  seems  veiy  simi)lc  and  ordinary.  The  job  was  of  no 
great  consequence  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view.  It  was  merely 
the  repairing  of  a  working  model  of  the  steam-engine  belong- 
ing to  the  University ;  for  doing  which  our  mechanic  received 
five  pounds  eleven  shillings  sterling.  But  in  the  very  simplici-. 
ty  of  the  thing  lies  the  marvel ;  as  in  the  case  of  Aladdin,  who 
onl}'  had  to  rub  his  lamp  a  little,  and  lo  !  a  palace  rose  from  the 
earth  like  an  exhalation.  The  idea  that  occurred  to  that  poor 
Scotch  mechanic  on  Glasgow  Green  one  hundred  years  ago  is 
to-day,  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  alone,  doing  the  work  of 
four  hundred  millions  of  men  !  That  is  to  say,  it  enables  the 
fifteen  millions  of  adults  residing  in  England,  Ireland,  and  Scot- 
land to  do  more  work,  to  produce  more  commodities,  than  the 
entire  adult  population  of  the  globe  could  do  without  it.  Is 
there  anything  in  the  Arabian  Nights  more  marvellous  than  that? 
The  name  of  this  modern  xiladdin  was  James  ^Yatt.  The  lamp 
he  rubbed  was  his  own  canny  Scotch  noddle.  Ten  thousand 
palaces  have  sprung  from  the  ground  in  consequence,  and  more 
will  spring,  nntil  every  honest  man  on  earth  will  inhabit  one  I 
That  mao'ic  thou<2:ht  has  clothed  the  feet  of  Scotch  lassies  with 
stockings,  which  before  were  bare,  and  enabled  the  poor  of 
many  lands  to  go  comfortably  dressed  who  before  were  clad  in 
rags. 

It  is  said  to  require  three  generations  to  make  a  gentleman. 
We  sometimes  find  that  it  has  taken  three  generations  to  pro- 
duce a  genius.  The  grandfather  of  James  AYatt  was  a  teacher 
of  navigation,  well  skilled  in  mathematics,  and  a  very  ingenious, 
worthy  man.  The  fiither  of  the  great  inventor  was  a  ship- 
wright, noted  for  his  skill  and  enterprise.  His  illustrious  sou, 
James,  was  a  feeble,  sickly  child,  and,  therefore,  much  indulged, 
and  not  pressed  to  learn.  But,  from  boj'hood,  he  showed  an 
aptitude  for  mechanics  and  natural  philosophy  which  we  always 
observe  in  the  early  life  of  inventors.  His  father's  shops  and 
ship-^'ards  afforded  the  best  school  for  such  a  youth,  who  soon 
had  his  own  little  chest  of  tools,  his  own  work-bench  and  his 
own  store  of  materials.  It  is  recorded  of  him  that,  while  still 
a  child,  he  was  fond  of  observing  the  action  of  steam  from  his 
mother's  tea-kettle,  wondei'ing  at  the  invisible  force  that  liftjd 


142  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHT. 

its  lid.  As  he  approached  manhood,  his  father  fell  into  misfor- 
tuDe,  which  obliged  the  youth  to  think  of  earning  his  own  live- 
lihood. He  made  his  way  to  London,  where  he  worked  a  year 
in  the  shop  of  a  mathematical-instrument-maker,  and  then,  re- 
turning to  Scotland,  he  established  himself  in  business  under 
the  protection  of  the  Glasgow  University.  The  learned  pro- 
fessors of  that  institution  expected  to  find  in  him  a  competent 
w^orkman  only.  They  discovered,  to  their  great  surprise,  that 
he  was  an  accomplished  and  profound  natural  philosopher  ;  will- 
ing, indeed,  to  learn  from  them,  but  able,  also,  to  teach  them. 
Such  was  his  ardor  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  that  he  learned 
the  German  language  in  order  to  be  able  to  read  one  book  upon 
mechanics ;  and,  a  few  years  after,  he  learned  the  Italian  for  a 
similar  object.  He  could  turn  his  hand  to  anything.  Without 
previously  knowing  anything  about  music  or  musical  instru- 
ments, he  made  a  very  good  church  organ,  and  several  guitars, 
violins  and  violoncellos,  some  of  which  are  still  preserved  in 
Scotland  as  curiosities. 

The  model  of  a  steam-engine  which  was  brought  to  his  shop 
to  repair,  was  a  copy  of  the  engines  then  used  in  pumping  water 
out  of  mines,  which  had  been  invented  about  a  century  before. 
Steam-engines  were  then  employed  for  no  other  purpose.  They 
were  cumbrous,  clumsy  machines,  and  were  run  at  such  an 
enormous  expense  for  fuel,  that  they  could  not  be  applied  to  the 
ordinary  purposes  of  manufacturing.  A  century  before  the 
Christian  era  the  mighty  power  of  steam  had  been  observed, 
and  some  attempts  had  been  made  to  turn  it  to  account.  But 
a  great  invention,  as  we  have  before  remarked,  is  the  growth  of 
ages.  Many  ingenious  men  had  labored  to  perfect  this  one,  the 
greatest  of  all,  and  they  had  brought  it  on  so  far,  that  a  single 
improvement  alone  was  wanting  to  make  it  available.  It  was 
just  so  with  Sir  Isaac  jSTewton's  sublime  discovery  of  the  attrac- 
tion of  gravitation.  Previous  philosophers  had  made  discov- 
eries that  only  needed  combining  to  produce  the  final  truth, 
which,  in  a  happy  hour,  flashed  upon  the  mind  of  Newton. 

Day  after  day  James  Watt  sat  in  his  shop  pondering  his  en- 
gine. He  could  not  make  it  work  to  his  satisfaction.  It  would 
make  a  few  revolutions  and  then  stop.     If  he  blew  the  fire  to  a 


JAMES    WATT.  143 

more  intense  heat,  the  ohstinatc  little  tiling  would  stop  alto- 
gether. He  talked  it  over  to  professors  and  students  ;  l)ut  no 
one  suggested  any  solution  of  the  diffieulty.  At  length  ho 
thought  he  had  detected  the  real  nature  of  the  defect  of  the 
steam-engine  as  then  made.  It  uas  this  :  five-eightJis  of  the 
ichole  amount  of  steam  ivas  tvasted,  —  at  least  five-eighths.  He 
afterwards  found  that  the  waste  was  nearer  seven-eiirhths  than 
five.  This  was  a  great  step ;  but  he  was  still  very  far  from 
being  able  to  apply  a  remedy. 

In  the  old  steam-engine  the  steam  rushed  into  the  cylinder, 
did  its  work  in  driving  the  piston,  and  then  had  to  condense  in 
the  cylinder,  and  run  off  in  the  form  of  water.  The  cylinder, 
being  exposed  to  the  air,  was  always  cooling;  so  that  the  new 
steam  began  to  condense  before  it  had  done  its  work  ;  and  hence 
the  waste.  On  this  principle  there  could  be  no  rapidity.  The 
steam-engine  was  as  slow  as  it  was  strong,  and  too  expensive 
for  profitable  use. 

"How  can  I  keep  that  cylinder  always  hot,  —  as  hot  as  steam 
itself?"  was  the  question  which  James  Watt  was  revolving  in 
his  long  Scotch  head  that  Sunday  afternoon.  "If  I  do  keep  it 
hot,  how  can  the  steam  condense  at  all  ?  And  if  the  steam  does 
not  condense,  how  can  the  piston  get  back  again?" 

Eureka  !  He  had  it !  The  thousfht  occurred  to  him  that  the 
steam,  after  doing  its  duty,  might  rush  into  another  vessel,  kept 
cool  by  jets  of  water,  and  thus  be  instantly  condensed ;  while 
the  cylinder,  surrounded  by  some  non-conducting  substance, 
could  be  kept  at  a  uniform  heat,  equal  to  that  of  steam.  The 
"condenser"  Avas  invented!  The  steam-engine,  as  we  now  see 
it,  is  covered  all  over  with  the  minor  improvements  of  James 
Watt;  but  his  great  invention — that  which  makes  the  steam- 
engine  universally  available  —  was  that  of  condensing  the  steam 
in  a  vessel  apart  from  the  c^dinder 

He  was  certain  of  the  practicability  of  his  idea  from  the  mo- 
ment of  its  birth.  A  few  days  after,  one  of  his  3^oung  friends, 
entering  his  room  suddenly,  found  him  sitting  before  the  fire 
absorbed  in  thought,  with  a  small  tin  vessel  in  his  hand.  His 
friend  at  once  began  to  converse  upon  the  great  topic  of  tho 
steam-engine,  which,  for  some  time,  had  been  their  oulj'  subject. 


144  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

"  You  need  not,"  said  the  inventor,  ^'fasli  yourself  any  more 
about  that,  man ;  I  have  now  made  an  engine  that  shall  not 
waste  a  particle  of  steam.  It  shall  be  all  boiling  hot;  ay,  and 
hot  water  injected  if  I  please." 

He  was  in  the  highest  spirits  for  many  days.  He  found,  in- 
deed, by  repeated  experiments,  that  he  had  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  the  steam-engine. 

But  what  could  a  poor  mechanic  do  with  so  magnificent  a 
conception?  The  entire  capital  of  James  "Watt,  in  1765,  was 
not  sufficient  to  build  one  steam-engine  of  ten  horse-power,  still 
less  to  make  the  experiments  necessary  to  complete  his  inven- 
tion. Watt,  moreover,  was  curiously  unfitted  for  the  strife  of 
business.  Bold  as  he  was  in  wrestling  with  the  laws  of  nature, 
he  was  timid  in  dealing  with  men,  self-distrustful,  liable  to  fits 
of  depression,  easily  abashed  and  discouraged.  Neverthe- 
less, he  continued  his  experiments  until  he  had  run  in  debt  a 
thousand  pounds,  and  could  go  no  further.  Then  he  formed  a 
partnership  with  Dr.  John  Boebuck,  a  large  manufacturer  near 
Glasgow,  who  paid  the  debt  of  a  thousand  pounds,  and  advanced 
more  money.  But  this  enterprising  man  had  the  misfortune  to 
lose  his  property.  For  ten  years  the  steam-engine  made  little 
progress ;  for  James  Watt,  who  had  ventured  to  marry,  was 
obliged  to  devote  himself  to  surveying,  canal-making,  and  gen- 
eral engineering,  in  order  to  maintain  his  fixmily. 

But,  in  1775,  he  found  a  partner  worthy  of  him.  This  was 
that  great  man,  Matthew  Boulton,  who,  from  being  a  journe}'- 
man  button-maker  at  Birmingham,  had  become  one  of  the  lords 
of  industry,  the  master  of  a  vast  manufactory  of  metal-ware, 
which  employed  hundreds  of  the  most  skilful  workmen  in  Eng- 
land. Matthew  Boulton,  besides  having  a  genius  for  business, 
was  a  man  of  great  knowledge  and  great  generosity  of  mind. 
He  was  a  gentleman,  a  philosopher,  a  natural  king  of  men.  He 
paid  the  debts  of  James  Watt,  bought  the  rights  of  Dr.  Roe- 
buck, supplied  all  the  capital  requisite  for  the  manufacture  of 
steam-engines,  on  condition  of  receiving  two-thirds  of  the  prof- 
its of  the  enterprise,  —  if  ever  there  should  be  any  profits. 

Even  with  the  aid  of  Boultou's  great  capital,  and  greater  tal- 
ent, it  was  long  before  the  business  yielded  much  profit.     Ex- 


JAMES    WATT.  14;") 

pensive  law-suits  to  test  the  originality  of  Watt's  improvements, 
troubled  and  retarded  it.  Ten  or  twelve  years  rolled  away  be- 
fore the  business  was  well  established  and  reasona])ly  profitable. 
But,  after  that,  the  progress  of  the  enterprise  Avas  wonderful. 
When  Boswell  visited  the  establishment,  a  few  years  later,  he 
found  seven  hundred  men  at  work.  "I  sell  here,"  remarked 
Mr.  Boulton,  "what  all  the  world  desires  to  have  —  Power." 
Boswell  says  :  "I  contemplated  him  as  an  iron  chieftain  ;  and 
he  seems  to  be  the  father  of  his  tribe." 

James  Watt  lived  to  the  age  of  eighty-three,  dying  in  1820. 
His  last  years  were  his  happiest.  Relieved  of  the  anxieties  of 
business,  possessing  an  ample  fortune,  surrounded  with  affec- 
tionate children  and  friends,  he  passed  his  days  in  study  and 
conversation,  the  delight  of  his  circle.  Sir  AYalter  Scott  held 
him  in  profound  veneration.  He  used  often  to  say  that  no 
achievements  of  the  pen  could  ever  equal  in  dignity  and  impor- 
tance the  labors  of  such  men  as  Watt  and  Wellington.  Wo 
cannot  agree  with  the  great  novelist  in  this  opinion.  James 
Watt  did  not.  He  held  the  genius  of  poets,  artists,  and  authors 
in  the  highest  esteem,  and  declared  that  it  was  the  teachings  of 
the  irreat  Professor  Black  that  made  him  what  he  was.  There 
is  no  need  of  arguing  the  old  question,  "Which  is  the  most 
worthy  of  honor,  the  man  who  writes  things  fit  to  be  read,  or 
the  man  who  does  things  fit  to  be  written?"  for  the  great  doer 
and  the  great  writer  are  the  two  men  in  the  world  who  honor 
one  another  most. 

We  may  add,  in  conclusion,  that  the  little  model  of  the  old 
steam-engine,  which  Watt  repaired  in  1765,  is  still  preserved  in 
Glasgow,  as  well  as  the  bill  for  five  pounds  eleven  shillings, 
which  he  presented  for  payment. 

10 


14Q  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


POOR   JOHN   FITCH. 


-»<>►- 


TiiE  Slimmer  of  1787  was  a  very  interesting  one  to  the  people 
of  Philadelphia,  then  the  capital  of  the  United  States.  The 
jrreat  Convention  was  in  session,  endeavorins^  to  form  the  con- 
stitution  under  which  we  now  live.  General  Washington,  who 
presided  over  its  deliberations,  was  often  seen  going  to  the  hall 
or  returning  from  it,  saluted  as  he  passed  by  every  good  citizen  ; 
and  old  Dr.  Franklin,  with  his  white  locks  and  his  enfeebled 
frame,  leaning  perhaps  upon  that  black  walking-stick  which 
may  now  be  seen  in  the  Patent  Office  at  Washington,  used, 
every  morning,  to  walk  round  from  his  house  in  Market  street 
to  the  place  of  meeting.  The  great  men  of  the  infant  nation 
were  there.  The  Convention  sat  with  closed  doors;  no  report 
of  its  proceedings  appeared  in  the  newspapers ;  but  the  hopes, 
the  destiny  of  the  republic  hung  upon  the  deliberations  of  the 
thirty-nine  men  of  which  it  was  composed. 

On  Wednesday  afternoon,  August  22,  when  the  Convention 
broke  up  for  the  day,  the  members,  instead  of  dispersing  to 
their  several  homes,  strolled  in  a  body  up  Chestnut  street  to 
the  Schuylkill  river.  A  great  number  of  citizens  were  going  in 
the  same  direction.  The  banks  of  that  picturesque  and  tranquil 
stream  were  lined  with  spectators. 

The  eyes  of  the  multitude  were  directed  to  a  strange-looking 
craft  that  lay  at  anchor  near  the  shore.  At  the  first  glance,  it 
looked  like  a  long,  stout  row-boat,  with  a  large  tea-kettle  boiling 
and  steaming  in  the  middle  of  it.  The  oars,  instead  of  lying  in 
their  usual  place,  were  arranged  in  an  upright  row  on  each  side 
of  the  boat,  and  were  kept  in  that  position  by  a  framework  of 
wood.  The  vessel  had  neither  sails,  masts,  nor  deck ;  being 
simply  an  open  boat,  forty-five  feet  long  and  twelve  feet  wide. 


POOR    JOHN    FITCH.  14:7 

which  poor  John  Fitcli  and  liis  few  poor  friends  had  honi^dit  for 
the  purpose  of  showing  an  nnhelieving  world  that  a  vessel  could 
be  propelled  by  steam  against  wind  and  tide. 

It  was  poor  John  Fitch,  we  repeat,  who  had  devised  and  con- 
structed this  odd-looking  craft.  In  all  the  records  of  invention, 
there  is  no  story  more  sad  and  affecting  than  his.  Poor  he  was 
in  many  senses;  poor  in  purse,  poor  in  appearance,  poor  in 
spirit.  lie  was  born  poor,  lived  poor,  and  died  poor.  Xo  one 
who  knows  his  melancholy  history  can  ever  call  him  by  any 
other  name  than'poor  John  Fitch.  He  was  rich  only  in  genius, 
in  faith,  in  love  for  his  country,  in  desires  to  do  her  service, — 
a  kind  of  wealth  that  posterity  honors,  but  which  could  not  buy 
John  Fitch  a  new  coat,  when  his  old  one  was  so  old  that  he 
blushed  as  the  passing  stranger  glanced  at  him.  If  ever  there 
was  a  true  inventor,  this  man  was  one.  He  was  one  of  those 
eager  souls  who  would,  literally,  coin  their  own  flesh  to  carry 
their  point.  He  only  uttered  the  obvious  truth  when  he  said, 
one  day,  in  a  crisis  of  his  invention,  that  if  he  could  get  a  hun- 
dred pounds  by  cutting  off  one  of  his  legs,  he  would  gladly 
give  it  to  the  knife. 

From  his  infancy,  misfortune  marked  him  for  her  own.  He 
was  born  in  Connecticut,  in  1743.  His  father  was  a  close, 
bard-working,  hard-hearted  farmer,  who  would  not  permit  a 
child  of  his  to  pick  an  apple,  or  laugh,  or  speak  loud  on  Sunday, 
but  who  begrudged  them  the  means  of  instruction,  and  kept 
poor  John  so  hard  at  work  from  his  tenth  year  as  to  stunt  his 
growth.  An  incident  occurred  when  he  was  still  a  very  small 
boy,  which,  he  used  to  say,  was  of  a  piece  with  all  his  career. 
One  of  his  sisters,  in  the  absence  of  their  father,  set  on  fire 
some  bundles  of  flax  which  were  in  the  kitchen.  In  her  alarm 
she  ran  to  the  barn,  leaving  her  little  brother  to  escape  as  best 
he  could.  He,  young  as  he  was,  fought  the  fire  like  a  hero, 
seizing  the  burning  bundles  and  stamping  out  the  fire  with  won- 
derful resolution  ;  while  his  clothes  and  his  hair  were  all  ablaze. 
When  he  had  quelled  the  flames,  and  while  his  apron  and  his 
hair  were  still  smoking,  and  his  hands  tingling  with  the  pain, 
an  elder  brother  came  in,  and,  supposing  John  to  be  the  author 
of  the  mischief,  fell  upon  him  with  great  fur}^  and  beat  him. 


148  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGilAPIIY. 

When  their  father  returned,  John  related  what  had  occurred. 
The  churlish  father  neither  reproved  the  elder  brother  nor 
thanked  the  younger  for  saving  his  house  from  destruction. 
"This,"  he  once  said,  "seemed  to  forbode  the  future  rewards  I 
was  to  receive  for  my  labor  through  life,  which  have  generally 
corresponded  exactly  with  that." 

Until  his  tenth  year  he  went  to  a  dame's  school  occasionally, 
where  he  learned  to  read  and  write  ;  but  from  that  time  forward 
he  was  kept  hard  at  work,  though  he  was  so  small  and  weak  that 
he  could  only  thrash  out  two  bushels  of  wheat  in  a  day.  His  love 
of  knowledge  was  most  remarkable.  Finding  an  old  arithmetic 
in  his  father's  house,  he  studied  it  in  the  evenings  till  he  had 
mastered  it.  He  heard  one  day,  when  he  was  eleven  years  old, 
of  a  wonderful  book  called  Salmon's  Geography,  which,  he  was 
told,  would  give  him  information  about  the  whole  world.  But, 
alas  !  the  price  was  ten  shillings.  After  vainly  entreating  his 
father  to  buy  it  for  him,  he  hit  upon  a  plan  for  raising  that 
enormous  sum  himself.  There  were  some  lands  upon  his 
father's  farm,  too  high  to  be  reached  by  the  plough,  which  were 
not  cultivated.  His  father  consenting  to  let  him  plant  potatoes 
there  and  to  have  the  produce  himself,  provided  he  worked  the 
land  only  on  holidays,  or  after  his  regular  work  was  done,  he 
devoted  his  training  days,  his  fourth  of  July,  his  evenings,  as 
long  as  he  could  see,  to  the  culture  of  his  little  patch.  Several 
bushels  of  potatoes  rewarded  his  labor,  which,  as  it  happened, 
brought  him  just  ten  shillings.  A  merchant  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, who  was  going  to  New  York,  agreed  to  buy  the  book. 
He  did  so  ;  but  now  a  new  misfortune  arose.  The  price  of  the 
book  was  twelve  shillings  instead  of  ten.  The  joy  of  the  boy  at 
possessing  the  book  was  overcast  by  the  consciousness  of  debt 
which  he  knew  not  how  to  discharge ;  and,  to  add  to  his  dis- 
tress, his  mean  and  unfeeling  father  required  him  to  pay  him 
for  the  seed  of  his  potatoes.  Nevertheless,  he  studied  his  book 
with  passion.  He  soon  knew  it  almost  by  heart.  At  the  same 
time,  he  learned  surveying  with  so  much  success  that  he  was 
soon  able  to  earn  enough  to  pay  his  little  debts. 

When  he  was  seventeen,  his  fother  gave  him  twenty  shillings 
and  his   blessing,   and   he   sallied   forth   to  seek  his  fortune. 


rooR  JOHN  FiTCii.  149 

First  he  tried  the  sea,  ])ut  found  it  a  liard  service.  Then  ho 
went  apprentice  to  a  clock-maker,  a  man  even  meaner  than  his 
father,  who  almost  starved  him,  and  who  denied  him  every 
opportunity  to  learn  his  trade.  At  twenty-one  he  left  this  hard 
master,  and  set  up  himself  as  clock-cleaner  and  brass-smith. 
His  whole  capital  was  twenty  shillings,  borrowed  from  a  young 
fellow  wdio  w^as  courting  his  sister ;  but  to  this  his  father,  with 
uncommon  liberality,  added  his  consent  to  the  young  man's 
livins:  one  month  at  his  house  board  free. 

He  prospered.  In  two  years  he  had  saved  fifty  pounds. 
Then  he  incurred  the  greatest  calamity  known  to  human 
nature.  He  married  a  vixen.  The  woman,  who  was  much 
older  than  himself,  made  his  life  one  horrid  broil.  He  was  one 
of  the  mildest,  kindest,  most  i^atient  of  men ;  but,  after 
enduring  some  months  of  this  degrading  anguish,  after  fre- 
quently warning  his  wife  that  if  she  did  not  restrain  her  temper 
he  would  leave  her,  he  at  last  abandoned  his  home,  his 
property,  his  wife,  his  infant  son,  and  his  unborn  daughter.  It 
"was  a  terrible  hour  to  him.  His  wdfe,  w^io  had  alwaj's  laughed 
at  his  threats,  followed  him  a  mile,  crying  and  humbly  begging 
him  to  try  her  once  more.  "But,"  he  says,  "my  judgment  in- 
formed me  that  it  w^as  my  duty  to  go,  notw^ithstanding  the 
struirsfles  of  nature  I  had  to   contend  w^ith." 

Henceforth  he  w^as  a  wanderer.  Trudging  along  the  road, 
he  offered  himself  as  a  farm-laborer ;  but  was  refused  on  account 
of  his  slender  and  weakly  frame.  He  tried  to  enlist  as  a 
soldier ;  but  could  not  for  the  same  reason.  He  roamed  the 
country,  cleaning  clocks  from  house  to  house.  At  length, 
after  many  wanderings,  he  reached  Trenton,  where  he  lived  a 
while  on  three  pence  a  day,  making  brass  buttons,  and  selling 
them  about  the  country.  Having  obtained  a  few^  shillings  of 
his  ow^n,  he  invested  them  in  the  purchase  of  an  old  brass 
kettle,  w^iich  he  made  up  into  buttons  and  sold  to  great  advan- 
tage. He  now  enjoyed  a  few  years  of  prosperity ;  but  the  war 
of  the  revolution  ruined  his  business,  and  he  embarked  in  that 
of  repairing  muskets.  He  served  awhile  in  the  field  during 
the  war,  holding  the  rank  of  lieutenant. 

Tow^ard  the  close  of  the  war,  he  set  out  for  the  far  West,  with 


150  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

the  intention  of  surveying  lands.  He  was  captured  by  the 
Indians,  and  he  remained  many  months  a  prisoner.  In  1785, 
"we  find  him  residing  in  Buck's  County,  Pennsylvania;  and 
there  it  v/as  that  he  conceived  the  idea,  as  he  says,  of  "pro- 
pelling a  conve3^ance  without  keeping  a  horse." 

Now,  at  tliis  time,  John  Fitch  had  never  seen  nor  heard  of  a 
steam-engine !  As  he  was  limping  home  from  church  one  day 
iu  April,  1785  (his  rheumatism,  caught  among  the  Indians, 
giving  him  many  a  twinge),  a  neighbor  drove  rapidly  by  in  a 
chaise  drawn  by  a  powerful  horse.  He  had  frequently  observed 
and  reflected  upon  the  tremendous  power  of  steam,  and  now 
the  thought  flashed  through  his  mind  :  Could  not  the  expansive 
power  of  steam  be  made  to  propel  a  carriage?  For  a  week  the 
idea  haunted  him  day  and  night.  He  then  concluded  that  such 
a  force  could  be  applied  more  conveniently  to  a  vessel  than  to 
a  carriage;  and,  from  that  hour,  to  the  end  of  his  daj^s,  John 
Fitch  thought  of  little  else  than  how  to  carry  out  his  daring 
conception.  He  studied  books  ;  he  consulted  men  ;  he  formed 
a  company.  After  two  years  of  such  labor  and  anxiety  as  only 
inventors  know,  he  had  got  on  so  far  as  to  finish  his  first  steam- 
boat, and  had  invited  the  members  of  the  Convention  to  come 
to  the  shores  of  the  Schuylkill  and  see  it  tried. 

Those  honorable  gentlemen  were  not  disappointed.  Soon 
after  the  appointed  time  the  boat  was  cast  off*,  and  did  actually 
move  by  the  power  of  steam  alone.  So  far,  the  great  experi- 
ment was  successful.  But  the  boat  moved  very  slowly.  The 
engine  w^as  much  too  small ;  it  was  made  by  common  black- 
smiths under  the  direction  of  John  Fitch,  and  was  a  most 
clumsy,  incomplete  machine.  Nevertheless,  on  that  day, 
August  22,  1787,  John  Fitch  did  demonstrate,  to  the  satiiifac- 
tion  of  every  beholder,  that  such  a  thing  as  a  steamboat  was 
possible.  The  next  day,  he  had  the  consolation  of  receiving 
from  the  gentlemen  of  the  Convention  a  note  expressive  of  the 
pleasure  the  experiment  had  aflbrded  them,  and  encouraging 
him  to  persevere  in  his  cflbrts. 

He  did  persevere.  We  cannot  begin  to  relate  the  obstacles 
he  encountered.  A  considerable  volume  would  scarcely 
aflbrd     the    requisite     space.      Poor,    ragged,    and     forlorn, 


POOR    JOHN*    FITCn.  151 

jeered  at,  pitied  as  a  madman,  diseouragcd  ])y  the  ^Teat, 
refused  by  the  rieh,  he  and  his  few  friends  kept  on,  until,  in 
171)0,  they  had  a  steamboat  running  on  the  Uehiware,  whieh 
was  the  lirst  steamboat  ever  constructed  that  answered  the 
purpose  of  one.  It  ran,  with  the  tide,  eight  miles  an  hour,  and 
six  miles  against  it.  It  made  fourteen  successful  trips  to  Bur- 
lington, whieh  is  seventeen  miles  from  Philadelphia.  It  made 
eleven  shorter  trips.  In  all,  this  boat  ran  about  two  thousand 
miles.  The  newspapers  of  that  summer  contain  twenty-three 
advertisements  announcing  the  times  of  its  departure,  as  well  as 
numerous  paragraphs  attesting  the  practical  success  of  the 
experiment. 

But  it  usuall}^  requires  several  generations  to  perfect  a  great 
invention.  The  steamboat  was  still  very  imperfect ;  it  fre- 
quently got  out  of  order  and  made  no  money.  Poor  John 
Fitch  formed  another  company,  and  began  another  steamboat ; 
but  the  faith  and  the  money  of  his  coadjutors  gave  out  before 
it  was  linished.  He  petitioned  Congress  for  help.  He  sought 
the  aid  of  State  le2:islatures.  He  even  went  to  France.  All 
was  in  vain.  Xo  one  believed  the  steamboat  would  ever  pay. 
and  few  could  see  in  this  poor  scarecrow,  this  pallid,  gaunt, 
and  raoffifed  Yankee,  one  of  the  ablest  natural  mechanics  that 
ever  lived.  He  used  to  slink,  in  his  dirt  and  rags,  about 
Philadelphia,  an  object  of  compassion  to  some,  and  to  others  an 
object  of  derision  and  contempt.  But  start  the  darling  topic 
of  the  steamboat,  and  the  whole  man  was  changed.  Fire 
sparkled  in  his  eye,  eloquence  flowed  from  his  tongue.  Rising 
to  his  full  stature,  and  lifting  his  long,  lean  arm,  he  would 
exclaim :  — 

"You  and  I  will  not  live  to  see  the  day,  but  the  time  will 
come  when  steamboats  will  be  preferred  to  all  other  modes  of 
conveyance ;  when  steamboats  will  ascend  the  western  rivers 
from  New  Orleans  to  Wheeling ;  when  steamboats  will  cross 
the  ocean  !  Johnny  Fitch  will  be  forgotten,  but  other  men  will 
carry  out  his  ideas,  and  grow  rich  and  great  upon  them." 

Those  who  listened  to  such  harangues  as  these  would  ex- 
change glances,  as  if  to  say,  "He  is  a  good  fellow  enough; 
what  a  pity  he  is  mad  ! " 


152  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

At  last  poor  John  Fitch  gave  up  the  struggle.  He  frequently 
tried  to  dull  his  sufferings  by  drink.  He  removed  to  Kentucky, 
Avhere,  in  1798,  he  died  by  his  own  hand.  He  had  been  sick 
for  a  few  days,  and  the  doctor  ordered  opium  pills.  Instead 
of  taking  one  each  day,  as  ordered,  he  secretly  saved  them  till 
he  had  twelve,  which  he  swallowed  all  at  once.  His  daughter, 
who  was  happily  married,  whom  he  tenderly  loved,  and  with 
whom  he  frequently  corresponded,  survived  him,  and  she  has 
livins:  descendants.  His  son  also  became  the  father  of  a 
numerous  family. 


BOBEET    FULTON.  |,-;5 


ROBERT   FULTON. 


-•o*- 


When  John  Fitch  began  to  build  his  first  steamboat  at  Phil- 
adelphia, there  was  living  in  that  city  an  artist,  twenty  3'ears  of 
age,  named  Robert  Fulton.  We  can  still  read,  in  the  Philadel- 
phia Directory  for  1785,  tlic  following  line:  — 

"Robert  Fulton,  Miniature  Painter,  corner  of  Second  and 
Walnut  Streets." 

He  was  more  than  a  miniature  painter,  though  it  was  from 
that  favorite  branch  of  the  art  that  he  chiefly  gained  his  liveli- 
hood. He  painted  portraits,  landscapes,  and  allegorical  pieces 
in  the  taste  of  that  time.  Such  was  his  success  in  his  profes- 
sion, that,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  when  he  had  been  but 
four  years  employed  in  it,  he  was  able  to  present  his  widowed 
mother  with  a  farm  of  eighty-four  acres,  and  to  afibrd  the 
expense  of  a  voyage  to  Europe,  with  a  view  to  improvement  in 
his  art,  as  well  as  the  re-establishment  of  his  health,  which  his 
excessive  application  had  impaired.  The  farm,  it  is  true,  cost 
but  four  hundred  dollars,  since  it  was  in  the  far  west  of  Penn- 
sylvania ;  but  this  does  not  detract  from  the  merit  of  the  action. 
It  was  a  worthy  beginning  of  an  honorable  career. 

Robert  Fulton,  born  near  Lancaster  in  Pennsylvania,  in  1765, 
was  the  son  of  an  Irish  tailor,  who  came  to  this  countr}^  in 
early  life,  prospered  in  business,  and  retired  to  a  large  and 
productive  farm  in  Lancaster  county,  the  garden  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. The  father  of  Benjamin  West,  who  lived  a  few  miles 
off,  and  the  father  of  Robert  Fulton,  were  old  friends,  and  the 
boy  consequently  heard  much  of  the  fame  and  success  of  the 
painter  who  had  left  home,  a  poor  unfriended  youth,  to  become 
the  favorite  artist  of  George  III. 

At  school,  Robert  Fulton  was  a  dull  and  troublesome  boy. 


i54:  PEOPLE'S      BOOK    OT    BIOGRAPHY. 

Books  were  disgusting  to  him.  He  had  the  impudence  to  tell 
his  teacher,  one  day,  that  his  head  was  so  full  of  original  notions, 
that  there  was  no  vacant  room  in  it  for  the  contents  of  dusty 
books.  But,  out  of  school,  he  exhibited  intelligence  and  talent. 
He  drew  well  almost  from  his  infancy ;  and,  as  he  grew  older, 
he  showed  a  remarkable  aptitude  for  mechanics.  The  shops  of 
Lancaster  were  his  favorite  places  of  resort.  Being  late  at 
school  one  day,  which  was  by  no  means  an  uncommon  occur- 
rence, his  master  asked  him  the  cause.  He  said  he  had  been 
at  a  shop  near  by  pounding  lead ;  and  he  showed  the  result  of 
his  labors,  in  a  very  neatly  shaped  lead  pencil,  which,  he  said 
was  the  best  pencil  he  had  ever  had.  At  thirteen,  he  assisted 
in  celebrating  the  Fourth  of  July,  by  discharging  sky-rockets 
made  by  himself  on  a  plan  of  his  own.  During  the  revolution, 
Congress  had  a  gunshop  at  Lancaster,  which  was  haunted  by  the 
boy,  who  assisted  the  workmen  by  drawing  plans  of  gun-stocks, 
and  by  suggesting  methods  of  repairing  broken  muskets. 
There,  too,  he  was  frequently  busy  in  attempting  to  construct 
an  air-irun. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1779,  when  he  was  fourteen  years 
of  age,  that  he  conceived  an  idea  which,  twenty-five  years  later, 
had  important  consequences.  There  was  a  heavy  old  flatboat, 
on  a  river  in  the  neighborhood,  which  was  much  used  by  the 
boys  in  their  fishing-excursions.  It  was  propelled  by  means  of 
poles.  Being  extremely  fatigued,  on  one  occasion,  by  poling 
this  cumbrous  craft  against  the  stream,  it  occurred  to  the  boy 
that,  perhaps,  paddle-wheels  turned  by  a  crank  could  be  applied 
to  the  boat.  Soon  after,  the  experiment  was  tried  with  so 
much  success  that  he  and  his  companions  never  afterwards 
used  the  boat  except  with  paddles.  This  boyish  invention 
(which,  though  not  new,  was  original  with  him)  is  supposed  to 
have  prepossessed  his  mind  in  favor  of  paddle-wheels  for  steam- 
boats. 

At  seventeen,  his  father  having  died,  this  precocious  youth 
established  himself  in  Philadelphia  as  a  miniature  painter,  and 
returned  on  his  twenty-first  birthday  to  his  early  home,  with 
the  means  in  his  pocket  of  rendering  his  mother  independent 
for  life.     That  pious  deed  performed,  he  sailed  for  England,  to 


-<   p^  «» 


ROBERT     FULTON.  155 

Bcek  instruction  in  liis  art  at  the  hands  of  his  father's  friend, 
Dcnjaniin  A\\>st.  AVhen  he  left  America,  poor  John  Fitch  had 
not  yet  completed  his  iirst  steamboat ;  but  his  plans  had  been 
published,  his  company  formed,  and  the  boat  begun.  AVc  may 
be  absolutely  certain  that  a  young  man  like  Fulton,  with  one  of 
the  best  mechanical  heads  in  the  world,  full  of  curiosity  with 
regard  to  the  mechanic  arts  from  his  childhood,  must  have  well 
known  what  John  Fitch  was  doing. 

The  great  painter  received  the  son  of  his  father's  friend  with 
open  arms,  accepted  him  as  a  pupil,  and  lodged  him  at  his  house 
in  London  for  several  years.  Fulton,  however,  never  became 
a  great  artist.  lie  was  an  excellent  draughtsman,  a  good  col- 
orist,  and  a  diligent  workman ;  but  he  had  not  the  artist's 
imagination  or  temperament.  His  mind  was  mechanical ;  he 
loved  to  contrive,  to  invent,  to  construct;  and  we  find  him, 
accordingly^  withdrawing  from  art,  and  busying  himself,  more 
and  more,  Avith  mechanics;  until,  at  length,  he  adopted  the 
profession  of  civil  engineer.  His  last  effort  as  an  artist  was  the 
painting  of  a  panorama,  exhibited  at  Paris  in  1797,  which  he 
afterwards  sokl  in  order  to  raise  money  to  pursue  his  experi- 
ments with  steam. 

Eobert  Fulton  w\as  never  capable  of  claiming  to  be  the  in- 
ventor of  the  steamboat.  It  is,  nevertheless,  to  his  knowledge 
of  mechanics,  and  to  his  resolution  and  perseverance,  that  the 
world  is  indebted  for  the  final  triumph  of  that  invention. 

Eecent  investi^rations  enable  us  to  show  the  chain  of  events 

o 

v^hich  led  him  to  embark  in  the  enterprise.  His  attention  was 
first  called  to  the  subject  in  Philadelphia,  by  the  operations  of 
John  Fitch,  in  1785  and  1786.  Next,  fifteen  years  after,  Fulton 
visited  a  steamboat  in  Scotland,  which,  though  unsuccessful, 
was  really  propelled  by  the  power  of  steam  for  short  distances, 
at  the  rate  of  six  miles  an  hour.  To  please  the  stranger,  who 
showed  an  extreme  curiosity  to  w^itness  its  operation,  this  boat 
was  set  in  motion,  and  Fulton  made  drawings  of  the  machinery. 
A.  year  or  two  after,  he  was  in  France  again,  where  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  gentleman  who  had  in  his  possession  the 
papers  left  in  France  by  John  Fitch,  which  contained  full  details 
of  his  plans  for  aj^plying  steam  to  the  propulsion  of  vessels. 


156  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Wo  have  the  testimony  of  this  gentleman,  that  the  papers  and 
drawino-s  of  John  Fitch  remained  in  the  possession  of  Kobert 
Fulton'for  "  several  months."  Aided  thus  by  the  knowledge 
and  experience  of  previous  inventors,  enjoying  the  immense 
advantage  of  the  improved  steam-engine  of  James  Watt,  being 
himself  an  excellent  mechanic  and  a  very  superior  draughtsman, 
havin<>-  the  appearance  and  manners  of  a  gentleman,  and  an 
extensive  acquaintance  with  the  leading  men  of  his  time,  he 
beo-an  the  execution  of  his  task  with  advantages  possessed  by 
no  previous  experimenter  in  steamboats. 

But  even  these  would  not  have  availed  if  he  had  not  had  the 
good  fortune  to  find  a  wealthy  co-operator.  Chancellor  Living- 
ston, of  New  York,  was  then  the  American  minister  at  the  court 
of  Napoleon.  Besides  being  a  gentleman  of  large  estate,  he 
was  a  man  of  public  spirit,  with  a  strong  natural  interest  in 
practical  improvements.  Chancellor  Livingston,  to  his  immortal 
honor,  became  first  the  friend,  then  the  patron,  and  finally  the 
partner  of  Robert  Fulton. 

In  1803  the  first  steamboat  of  Livins^ston  and  Fulton  was 
built  in  France  upon  the  Seine.  When  she  was  almost  ready 
for  the  experimental  trip,  a  misfortune  befell  her  which  would 
have  dampened  the  ardor  of  a  man  less  determined  than  Fulton. 
Rising  one  morning  after  a  sleepless  night,  a  messenger  from 
the  boat,  with  horror  and  despair  written  upon  his  countenance, 
burst  into  his  presence,  exclaiming :  — 

"  O  sir !  the  boat  has  broken  in  pieces  and  gone  to  the 
bottom ! " 

For  a  moment  Fulton  was  utterly  overwhelmed.  Never  in 
Lis  whole  life,  he  used  to  say,  was  he  so  near  despairing  as  then. 
Hastening  to  the  river,  he  found,  indeed,  that  the  weight  of  the 
machinery  had  broken  the  framework  of  the  vessel,  and  she  lay 
on  the  bottom  of  the  river,  in  plain  sight,  a  mass  of  timber  and 
iron.  Instantly,  w^ith  his  own  hands,  he  began  the  work  of 
raising  her,  and  kept  at  it,  without  food  or  rest,  for  twenty-four 
hours,  —  an  exertion  which  permanently  injured  his  health. 
His  death  in  the  prime  of  life,  was,  in  all  probability,  remotely 
caused  by  the  excitement,  exposure,  and  toil  of  that  terrible  day 
and  night. 


/ 


ROBERT    FULTON.  JJJ 

In  a  few  weeks  the  boat,  sixty-six  feet  long  and  eight  Avidc, 
was  rebuilt,  and  the  submerged  engine  replaced  in  her.  TIio 
National  Institute  of  Franco  and  a  great  concourse  of  Parisians 
witnessed  her  trial  trip  in  July,  1803.  The  result  was  encour- 
aging, but  not  brilliant.  The  boat  moved  slowly  along  the  tran- 
quil Seine,  amid  the  acclamations  of  the  multitude ;  but  the 
quick  eye  of  Fulton  at  once  discerned  that  the  machinery  was 
defective  and  inadequate,  and  that,  in  order  to  give  the  inven- 
tion a  fair  trial,  it  was  necessary  to  begin  anew,  to  procure  an 
engine  far  more  powerful  and  a  boat  better  adapted  to  the  pur- 
pose. As  Chancellor  Livingston  was  about  to  return  home,  it 
was  resolved  that  the  next  attempt  should  be  made  at  New 
York ;  and  an  engine  for  the  purpose  was  ordered  from  the 
manufactory  at  Birmingham  of  Watt  and  Bolton. 

In  September,  1807,  the  famous  Clermont,  one  hundred  and 
sixty  tons,  was  completed.  Monday,  September  the  tenth,  was 
the  day  appointed  for  a  grand  trial  trip  to  Albany,  and  by  noon 
a  vast  crowd  had  assembled  on  the  wharf  to  witness  the  per- 
formance of  what  was  popularly  called  "  Fulton's  Folly."  Ful- 
ton himself  declares  that,  at  noon  on  that  day,  not  thirty  persons 
in  the  city  had  the  slightest  faith  in  the  success  of  the  steam- 
boat ;  and  that,  as  the  boat  was  putting  off,  he  heard  many  "sar- 
castic remarks."  At  one  o'clock,  however,  she  moved  from  the 
dock,  —  vomiting  smoke  and  sparks  from  her  pine-wood  fires, 
and  casting  up  clouds  of  spray  from  her  uncovered  paddle-wheels. 
As  her  speed  increased,  the  jeers  of  the  incredulous  were  si- 
lenced, and  soon  the  departing  voyagers  caught  the  sound  of 
cheers.  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  the  boat  was  observed  to 
stop,  which  gave  a  momentary  triumph  to  the  scoffers.  Fulton 
perceived  that  the  paddles,  being  too  long,  took  too  much  hold 
of  the  water,  and  he  stopped  the  boat  for  the  purpose  of 
shortenin<x  them.  This  was  soon  done,  and  the  boat  resumed 
her  voyage  with  increased  speed,  and  kept  on  her  course  all  that 
day,  all  the  succeding  night,  and  all  the  next  morning,  until  at 
one  o'clock  on  Tuesday  she  stopped  at  the  seat  of  Chancellor 
Livingston,  one  hundred  and  ten  miles  from  New  York.  There 
she  remained  till  the  uext  morning  at  nine,  when  she  continued 
her  voyage  toward  Albany,  where  she  arrived  at  live  in  the  after- 


153  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

noon.  Her  running  time  was  thirty- two  hours,  which  is  cat  the 
rate  of  nearly  live  miles  an  hour.  Keturning  immediatel}^  to 
New  York,  she  performed  the  distance  in  thirty  hours;  exactly 
five  miles  an  hour. 

The  Clermont  was  immediately  put  upon  the  river  as  a  packet- 
boat,  aud  plied  between  New  York  and  Albany  until  the  close 
of  navigation,  being  always  crowded  with  passengers.  En- 
larijed  during  the  winter,  she  resumed  her  trips  in  the  spring  of 
1808,  and  continued  to  run  with  great  success,  and  with  profit 
to  her  owners.  It  was  long,  however,  before  the  river  boatmen 
were  disposed  to  tolerate  this  new  and  terrible  rival.  At  first, 
it  is  said,  they  fled  in  affright  from  the  vicinity  of  the  monster, 
fearing  to  be  set  on  fire  or  run  down  by  her.  Afterwards,  re 
gaining  their  courage,  they  made  so  many  attempts  to  destroy 
her  that  the  Legislature  of  the  State  passed  a  special  act  for  her 
protection. 

Fulton  devoted  the  rest  of  his  life  to  the  improvement  of  the 
steamboat.  lie  lived  to  see  the  value  of  his  labors  universally 
recognized,  and  he  acquired  by  them  a  considerable  fortune. 
He  died  February  24th,  1815,  aged  fifty  years,  leaving  a  w^ife 
and  four  children,  two  of  whom  are  still  living  in  New  York. 
He  was  able  to  leave  his  wife  an  income  of  nine  thousand  dollars 
a  year,  as  well  as  five  hundred  dollars  a  year  for  each  of  his 
children  till  they  were  twelve  years  old,  and  a  thousand  dollars 
a  year  afterward  till  they  were  twenty-one.  So,  at  least,  runs 
his  will,  written  a  year  before  his  death.  His  remains  lie  in 
Trinity  Church-yard,  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

Robert  Fulton  was,  in  every  respect,  an  honor  to  his  country 
and  his  profession.  Tall,  handsome,  and  well-bred,  he  easily 
made  friends,  whose  regard  he  retained  by  his  sincerity,  gen- 
erosity, and  good-humor.  His  crowning  virtue  was  that  indom- 
itable resolution  which  enabled  him  to  bear  patiently  the  most 
cruel  disappointments,  and  to  hold  calmly  on  his  way  till  he  had 
conquered  a  sublime  success. 


ELI    WHITNEY.  159 


ELI   WHITNEY. 


-•o*- 


One  (lay,  in  the  fall  of  1792,  when  General  Washinirton  was 
President  of  the  United  States,  a  company  of  Georgia  planters 
happened  to  be  assembled  at  the  house,  near  Savannah,  of  Mrs. 
Nathaniel  Greene,  widow  of  the  famous  General  Greene,  of  the 
Revolution.  Several  of  these  planters  had  been  officers  under 
the  command  of  the  general,  and  they  had  called,  naturally 
enough,  to  pay  their  respects  to  his  w^idow. 

The  conversation  turned  upon  the  depressed  condition  of  the 
Southern  States  since  the  close  of  the  war.  The  planters  were 
generally  in  debt,  their  lands  were  mortgaged,  their  products 
afforded  little  profit,  and  many  of  the  younger  and  more  enter- 
prising people  were  moving  away.  The  cause  of  this  state  of 
thins^s,  these  planters  as^reed,  w^as  the  difficulty  of  raisimx  cotton 
with  profit,  owing  to  the  great  labor  required  in  separating  the 
fibres  of  the  cotton  from  the  seeds. 

Many  of  our  readers,  w^o  presume,  have  never  seen  cotton 
growing,  nor  even  a  boll,  or  pod,  of  cotton.  This  pod,  which 
is  about  as  large  as  a  hen's  egg,  bursts  when  it  is  ripe,  and  the 
cotton  gushes  out  at  the  top  in  a  beautiful  white  flock.  If  you 
examine  this  flock  closely,  you  discover  that  it  contains  eight  or 
ten  large  seeds,  much  resembling,  in  size  and  shape,  the  seeds 
of  a  lemon.  The  fibres  of  the  cotton  adhere  so  tightly  to  the 
seeds,  that  to  get  one  pound  of  clean  cotton,  Avithout  wasting 
any,  used  to  require  a  whole  day's  labor.  It  was  this  fact  that 
rendered  the  raising  of  cotton  so  little  profitable,  and  kept  the 
Southern  States  from  sharing  in  the  prosperity  enjoyed  by  the 
States  of  the  Xorth,  after  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  war. 

When  the  gentlemen  had  been  conversing  for  some  time,  tho 


160  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

idea  was  started  that  perhaps  this  work  could  be  doue  by  a  ma- 
chine.    Mrs.  Greene  then  remarked  :  — 

"Gentlemen,  apply  to  my  young  friend,  Mr.  Whitney;  7ie 
can  make  anything." 

Few  words  have  ever  been  spoken  on  this  globe,  that  have 
had  such  important  and  memorable  consequences  as  this  simple 
observation  of  Mrs.  Nathaniel  Greene. 

Eli  Whitney,  of  whom  she  spoke,  was  a  young  Massachusetts 
Yankee,  who  had  come  to  Georgia  to  teach,  and,  having  been 
taken  sick,  had  been  invited  by  this  hospitable  lady  to  reside  in 
her  house  till  he  should  recover.  He  was  the  son  of  a  poor 
farmer,  and  had  worked  his  way  through  college  without  assist- 
ance—  as  Yankee  boys  often  do.  From  early  boyhood  he  had 
exhibited  wonderful  skill  in  mechanics,  and  in  college  he  used 
to  repair  the  philosophical  apparatus  with  remarkable  nicety, — 
to  the  great  admiration  of  professors  and  students.  During  his 
residence  with  Mrs.  Greene  he  had  made  for  her  an  ingenious 
tambour-frame,  on  a  new  principle,  as  well  as  many  curious  to3'S 
for  her  children.  Hence  her  advice :  "Apply  to  my  young 
friend,  Mr.  Whitney;  he  can  make  anything." 

She  now  introduced  Mr.  Whitney  to  her  friends,  who  de- 
scribed to  him  the  difficulties  under  which  they  labored.  He 
told  them  he  had  never  seen  a  pod  of  cotton  in  his  life.  With- 
out giving  them  any  promises,  he  resolved  to  procure  some  raw 
cotton  forthwith,  and  see  what  he  could  do  with  it.  Searching 
about  the  wharves  of  Savannah,  he  found,  at  length,  some  un- 
cleaned  cotton,  and  taking  home  a  bundle  of  it  in  his  hands,  he 
shut  himself  up  in  a  room  in  the  basement,  and  set  to  work  to 
invent  the  machine  required. 

All  the  winter  he  labored  in  his  solitary  cell.  There  were  no 
proper  tools  to  be  ha^  in  Savannah.  He  made  his  own  tools. 
There  was  no  wire.  He  made  his  own  wire.  The  children,  the 
servants,  the  visitors  at  the  house,  wondered  what  he  could  be 
doing  in  the  basement  all  alone.  But  he  said  nothing,  and  kept 
on  thinking,  hammering,  and  tinkering,  till,  early  in  the  spring 
of  1793,  he  had  completed  his  work.  Having  set  up  the  mys- 
terious machine  in  a  shed,  he  invited  a  number  of  planters  to 
come  and  witness  its  operation.     Its  success  was  complete. 


ELI    WHITNEY.  101 

TiiC  gentlemen  saw,  with  unl)ounclcd  wonder  and  delight,  that 
one  man,  Avith  this  young  Yankee's  engine,  could  clean  as  much 
cotton  in  one  day  as  a  man  could  clean  by  hand  in  a  whole  win- 
ter. The  cotton  grown  on  a  large  plantation  could  be  separated 
from  the  seed  in  a  few  days,  which  before  required  the  constant 
labor  of  a  hundred  hands  for  several  months. 

Thus  was  the  cotton-gin  invented.  The  principle  was  so  sim- 
ple that  the  wonder  was  that  no  one  had  thought  of  it  before. 
The  cotton  Avas  put  into  a  large  trough,  the  bottom  of  which 
was  formed  of  wires  placed  in  parallel  rows,  so  close  together 
that  the  seed  could  not  pass  through.  Under  this  trough  saws 
revolved,  the  teeth  of  which  thrust  themselves  between  the 
wires  and  snatched  the  cotton  through,  leaving  the  seed  behind, 
w^hich  ran  out  in  a  stream  at  one  end  of  the  troui^^h. 

The  simplicity  of  the  cotton-gin  had  two  effects,  —  one  good, 
the  other  bad.  The  good  effect  was,  that  in  the  course  of  a 
very  few  years  it  was  introduced  all  over  the  cotton  States,  in- 
creased the  value  of  all  the  cotton  lands,  doubled  and  trebled 
the  production  of  cotton,  and  raised  the  Southern  States  from 
hopeless  depression  to  the  greatest  prosperity.  The  effect  was 
as  lasting  as  it  was  sudden.  In  1793  the  whole  export  of  cot- 
ton from  the  United  States  was  ten  thousand  bales.  In  1859 
the  export  was  four  millions  of  bales.  Men  acquainted  with  the 
subject  are  of  opinion  that  that  single  invention  has  been  worth 
to  the  South  one  thousand  millions  of  dollars. 

How  much  did  the  inventor  gain  by  it?  Not  one  dollar! 
Associating  himself  with  a  man  of  capital,  he  went  to  Connect- 
icut to  set  up  a  manufactory  of  cotton-gins.  But  the  simplicity 
of  the  machine  was  such,  that  any  good  mechanic  who  saw  it 
could  make  one  ;  and  long  before  Whitney  was  ready  to  supply 
machines  of  his  own  making  there  were  great  numbers  in  oper- 
ation all  over  the  cotton  States.  His  patent  proved  to  be  no 
protection  to  him.  If  he  brought  a  suit  for  its  infringement,  no 
Southern  jury  w^ould  give  him  a  verdict.  He  struggled  on 
against  adverse  influences  for  fifteen  years.  In  1808,  when  his 
patent  expired,  he  gave  up  the  contest  and  w^ithdrew  from  the 
business,  a  poorer  man  than  he  was  on  the  day  when  he  went, 

with  his  handful  of  cotton-pods,  into  Mrs.  Greene's  basement. 
11 


162  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGKAPFf. 

Thousands  of  men  were  rich,  who,  but  for  hio  ingenuity  and 
labor,  would  have  remained  poor  to  the  end  of  their  days.  The 
levees  of  the  Southern  seaports  were  heaped  high  with  cotton, 
which,  but  for  him,  would  never  have  been  grown.  Fleets  of 
cotton  ships  sailed  the  seas,  which,  but  for  him,  would  never 
have  been  built.  He,  the  creator  of  so  much  wealth,  returned 
to  his  native  State,  at  the  age  of  forty-two,  to  begin  the  world 
anew. 

But  Eli  Whitney  was  a  thoroughbred  Yankee,  —  one  of  those 
unconquerable  men,  who,  balked  in  one  direction,  try  another, 
and  keep  on  trying  till  they  succeed.  He  turned  his  attention 
to  the  improvement  of  fire-arms,  particularly  the  old-fashioned 
musket.  Having  established  a  manufactory  of  fire-arms  at  New 
Haven,  he  prospered  in  business,  and  was  enabled,  at  length,  to 
gratify  his  domestic  tastes  by  marrying  the  daughter  of  Judge 
Pierpont  Edwards,  with  whom  he  lived  in  happiness  the  rest  of 
his  life.  Some  of  the  improvements  which  he  invented  are  pre- 
served in  the  celebrated  Springfield  musket,  with  which  our 
soldiers  are  now  chiefly  armed.  It  was  he  who  began  the 
improvements  in  fire-arms  which  Colt  and  many  others  have 
continued,  and  which  have  given  the  United  States  the  best 
muskets,  the  best  pistols,  and  the  best  cannon  in  the  world. 
Eli  Whitney  died  in  January,  1826,  in  his  sixtieth  year. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  same  man  should  have  supplied 
the  South  with  the  wealth  that  tempted  it  to  rebel,  and  the 
United  States  with  the  weapons  with  which  it  enforced  its  just 
authority. 

The  time  is  at  hand  when  Yankee  ingenuity  will  again  be 
employed  in  developing  the  vast  resources  of  the  Southern 
States.  There  are  "Whitneys  still  among  us.  When,  at  length, 
the  opportunity  shall  be  aflTorded  them,  they  will  set  to  work, 
tinkering  and  cogitating,  inventing  new  machines  and  new 
methods,  causing  the  worn  fields  to  smile  again  with  abundant 
harvests,  and  the  dilapidated  old  towns  to  renew  their  youth. 


AUDUBON.  l(r> 


AUDUBON. 


One  of  the  happiest  men,  and  one  of  the  most  intcrcstnig 
characters  we  have  had  in  America,  was  John  James  Audubon, 
the  celebrated  painter  and  biographer  of  American  bird?.  He 
was  one  of  the  few  men  wdiose  pursuits  were  in  perfect  accord- 
ance with  his  tastes  and  his  talents;  and,  besides  this,  he  en- 
joyed almost  every  other  felicity  which  falls  to  the  lot  of  a 
mortal. 

His  father  was  a  French  admiral  who,  about  the  middle  of 
the  last  century,  emigrated  to  Louisiana,  where  he  prospered, 
and  reared  a  family.  His  distingifished  son  was  born  in  1780. 
AVhilc  he  was  still  a  little  boy,  he  showed  a  remarkable  interest 
in  the  beautiful  birds  that  flew  about  his  father's  sugar-planta- 
tion, particularly  the  mocking-bird,  which  attains  its  greatest 
perfection  in  that  part  of  Louisiana.  He  soon  had  a  considera- 
ble collection  of  living  birds ;  and  he  tells  us  that  his  first 
attempts  to  draw  and  paint  were  inspired  by  his  desire  to  pre- 
serve a  memento  of  the  beautiful  plumage  of  some  of  his  birds 
that  died.  In  delineating  his  feathered  friends  he  displayed  so 
much  talent  that,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  his  fother  took  him  to 
Paris,  and  placed  him  in  the  studio  of  the  famous  painter, 
David,  where  he  neglected  every  other  branch  of  art  except 
the  one  in  which  he  was  destined  to  excel.  David's  forte  was 
in  painting  battle-pieces ;  but  his  pupil  was  never  attracted  to 
pictures  of  that  kind,  and  he  occupied  himself  almost  exclusively 
in  painting  birds.  At  seventeen,  he  returned  to  Louisiana  and 
resumed,  with  all  his  former  ardor,  his  favorite  study. 

"My  father,"  he  says,  in  one  of  his  prefaces,  "then  made  mo 
a  present  of  a  magnificent  farm  in  Pennsylvania,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Schuylkill,  where  I  married.     The  cares  of  a  household. 


104  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  love  which  I  bore  my  wife,  and  the  birth  of  two  children, 
did  not  diminish  my  jDassion  for  Ornithology.  An  invincible 
attraction  drew  me  toward  the  ancient  forests  of  the  American 
continent,  and  many  years  rolled  away  while  I  was  far  from  my 

family." 

To  facilitate  his  design  of  studying  birds  in  their  native  woods, 
he  removed  his  family  to  the  village  of  Henderson,  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  whence,  for  fifteen  years,  he  made  excur- 
sions into  the  forest  with  his  portfolio,  rifle,  and  game-bag. 

From  the  great  lakes  to  the  extremest  point  of  Florida, — 
from  the  AUeghanies  to  the  prairies  far  beyond  the  Mississippi, — 
through  impenetrable  forests,  in  cane-brakes  almost  impassable, 
and  on  the  boundless  prairies,  he  sought  for  new  varieties  of 
birds,  copying  them  of  the  size  of  life,  and  measuring  every 
part  with  the  utmost  nicety  of  mathematics.  Up  with  the 
dawn,  and  rambling  about  all  day,  he  w^as  the  happiest  of  men 
if  he  returned  to  his  camp  at  evening  carrying  in  his  game-bag 
a  new  sj^ecimen  with  which  to  enrich  his  collection.  He  had  no 
thought  whatever  of  publishing  his  pictures. 

"It  was  no  desire  of  glory,"  he  assures  us,  "which  led  me 
into  this  exile,  — I  wished  only  to  enjoy  nature." 

After  fifteen  years  of  such  a  life  as  this,  he  paid  a  visit  to  his 
relations  in  Philadelphia,  carrying  with  him  two  hundred  of  his 
designs,  the  result  of  his  laborious  and  perilous  wanderings. 
Being  obliged  to  leave  Philadelphia  for  some  weeks,  he  left 
these  in  a  box  at  the  house  of  one  of  his  relations.  On  his  re- 
turn, what  were  his  horror  and  despair  to  discover  that  they 
were  totally  destroyed  by  mice ! 

"A  poignant  flame,"  he  relates,  "pierced  my  brain  like  an 
arrow  of  fire,  and  for  several  weeks  I  was  prostrated  with  fever. 
At  length,  physical  and  moral  strength  awoke  within  me. 
Again  I  took  my  gun,  my  game-bag,  and  portfolio,  and  my 
pencils,  and  plunged  once  more  into  the  depths  of  my  forests. 
Three  years  passed  before  I  had  repaired  the  damage,  and  they 
were  three  years  of  happiness.  To  complete  my  work,  I  went 
every  day  farther  from  the  abodes  of  men.  Eighteen  months 
more  rolled  away,  and  my  object  was  accomplished." 

During  his  stay  at  Philadelphia,  in  1824,  Audubon  became 


AUDUBON.  1G5 

acquainted  with  Prince  Lucien  Bonaparte,  who  strongly  urged 
the  naturalist  to  publish  his  designs.  This,  however,  was  a 
work  far  too  expensive  to  be  undertaken  in  America  alone. 
lie  proposed  to  issue  several  volumes  of  engravings  colored  and 
of  life-size,  with  other  volumes  of  printed  descriptions.  The 
price  of  the  work  was  fixed  at  a  thousand  dollars.  Before  he 
had  obtained  a  single  subscriber,  he  set  his  engravers  to  work 
and  proceeded  to  enlist  the  cooperation  of  the  wealthy  men  of 
England  and  France.  He  was  received  in  Europe  with  great 
distinction,  and  obtained  in  all  one  hundred  and  seventy  sub- 
scribers, of  whom  about  eighty  were  Europeans.  While  the 
first  volume  w\as  in  course  of  preparation,  he  returned  to  Amer- 
ica, and  spent  another  year  in  ranging  the  forests  to  add  to  his 
store.  In  1830,  the  first  volume  of  his  wonderful  work  ap- 
peared, consisting  of  a  hundred  colored  plates,  and  representing 
ninety-nine  varieties  of  birds.  The  volume  excited  enthusiasm 
wherever  it  w^as  exhibited.  The  king  of  France  and  the  king 
of  Enofland  inscribed  their  names  at  the  head  of  his  list  of  sub- 
scribers.  The  principal  learned  societies  of  London  and  Paris 
added  Audubon  to  the  number  of  their  members,  and  the  creat 
naturalists,  Cuvier,  Humboldt,  Wilson,  and  others,  joined  in 
a  chorus  of  praise. 

The  work,  which  consists  of  four  volumes  of  engravings  and 
five  of  letter-press,  was  completed  in  1839.  For  the  later 
volumes  he  again  passed  three  years  in  exploration,  and,  at 
one  time,  w^as  enabled  to  study  the  birds  on  the  coast  of  Florida 
in  a  vessel  which  the  government  of  the  United  States  had 
placed  at  his  disposal.  Returning  to  New  York,  he  purchased 
a  beautiful  residence  on  the  shores  of  the  Hudson,  near  the  city, 
where  he  prepared  for  the  press  an  edition  of  his  great  work 
upon  smaller  paper,  in  seven  volumes,  which  was  completed 
in  1844. 

Many  New  Yorkers  remember  that  about  that  time  he  ex- 
hibited in  the  city  a  wonderful  collection  of  his  original  draw- 
ings, which  contained  several  thousands  of  animals  and  birds, 
all  of  which  he  had  studied  in  their  native  homes,  all  drawn  of 
the  size  of  life  by  his  own  hand,  and  all  represented  with  their 
natural  foliage  around  them. 


166  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

He  was  now  sixtj-five  years  of  age,  but  his  natural  vigor 
appeared  to  be  in  no  degree  abated.  Parke  Godwin,  who  knew 
him  well  at  that  time,  described  him  as  possessing  all  the 
tiprightliness  and  vigor  of  a  young  man.  He  was  tall,  and 
remarkably  well  formed,  and  there  was  in  his  countenance  a 
sino-ular  blending:  of  innocence  and  animation.  His  head  w^as 
exceedingly  remarkable.  "The  forehead  high,"  says  Mr.  God' 
win,  "arched  and  unclouded  ;  the  hairs  of  the  brow  prominent, 
particularly  at  the  root  of  the  nose,  which  was  long  and  aqui- 
line ;  chin  prominent,  and  mouth  characterized  by  energy  and 
determination.  The  eyes  were  dark-grey,  set  deeply  in  the 
head,  and  as  restless  as  the  glance  of  an  eagle."  His  manners 
were  extremely  gentle,  and  his  conversation  full  of  point  and 
spirit. 

Still  unsatisfied,  he  undertook  in  his  old  age  a  new  work  on 
the  quadrupeds  of  America,  for  which  he  had  gathered  much 
material  in  his  various  journeys.  Again  he  took  to  the  woods, 
accompanied,  however,  now  by  his  two  sons,  Victor  and  John, 
who  had  inherited  much  of  his  talent  and  zeal. 

Eeturning  to  his  home  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  he  pro- 
ceeded leisurely  to  prepare  his  gatherings  for  the  press,  assisted 
always  by  his  sons  and  other  friends.  "  Surrounded,"  he  wrote, 
"by  all  the  members  of  my  dear  family,  enjoying  the  affection 
of  numerous  friends,  who  have  never  abandoned  me,  and  pos- 
sessing a  sufficient  share  of  all  that  contributes  to  make  life 
agreeable,  I  lift  my  grateful  eyes  toward  the  Supreme  Being, 
and  feel  that  I  am  happy." 

He  did  not  live  to  complete  his  work  upon  the  quadrupeds. 
Attacked  by  disease  in  his  seventy-first  year,  which  Avas  the 
year  1851,  he  died  so  peacefull}^  that  it  was  more  like  going  to 
sleep  than  death.  His  remains  w^ere  buried  in  Trinity  Ceme- 
ter}^  which  adjoins  his  residence. 

Mr.  Audubon  left  an  autobiography,  which,  perhaps,  may 
see  the  light.  Besides  his  eminent  talents  as  an  artist,  Audubon 
was  a  vigorous  and  picturesque  WTiter.  Some  passages  of  his, 
descriptive  of  the  habits  of  birds,  are  among  the  finest  pieces  of 
writing  yet  produced  in  America,  and  have  been  made  familiar 
to  the  public  through  the  medium  of  the  school  reading-books. 


ATJDUBON.  XG7 

We  learn  from  the  career  of  this  estimable  man  that  ho  ^\il(J 
would  accom])lish  much  in  the  short  lifetime  of  a  human  Ijoin^-, 
must  concentrate  his  powers  upon  one  object,  and  that  o])ject 
congenial  with  his  tastes  and  talents.  Audubon  did  in  his  life 
one  thing :  he  made  known  to  mankind  the  birds  of  his  native 
laud ;  but  he  did  this  so  well,  that  his  name  will  be  held  in 
honor  as  long  as  the  materials  last  of  which  his  volumes  arc 
composed. 


168  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGEAPHT. 


ZERAH  COLBURU. 


«OI 


On  a  summer  afternoon  of  the  year  1810,  in  a  frontier  settle- 
ment of  Vermont,  a  farmer  was  working  at  a  carpenter's  bench, 
and  his  little  boy,  six  years  of  age,  was  playing  with  the  shav- 
ings at  his  feet.     The  boy  suddenly  began  to  say  to  himself:  — 

"Five  times  seven  are  thirty-five.  Six  times  seven  are  forty- 
two.     Three  times  twelve  are  thirty-six." 

The  father  was  startled ;  for  though  the  boy  had  been  a  few 
weeks  at  the  district  school,  he  neither  knew  his  letters  nor  his 
figures.  He  began  to  question  him  in  the  multiplication  table, 
and  found  that  he  knew  it  perfectly.  Finally,  half  in  joke,  he 
asked  him :  — 

"How  much  is  13  times  97?" 

The  boy  instantly  gave  the  correct  answer,  1,261. 

"I  could  not  have  been  more  surprised,"  the  father  used  to 
say,  "  if  a  man  had  sprung  out  of  the  earth,  and  stood  erect 
before  me." 

He  continued  the  examination,  and  discovered  that  the  boy, 
who  had  had  no  instruction  in  arithmetic  whatever,  and  could 
not  tell  a  4  from  a  9,  possessed  the  power  of  multiplying,  in  his 
head,  four  figures  by  four  figures,  with  unerring  correctness,  in 
about  ten  seconds. 

The  name  of  this  astonished  farmer  was  Abia  Colburn,  and 
that  of  his  son  was  Zerah.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  about 
the  father  or  his  family,  except  they  all  had  one  more  finger  and 
one  more  toe  than  the  regular  number.  The  boy  also  had  five 
fingers  and  six  toes.  Abia  Colburn  was  a  dull,  and  even  a  stupid 
man ;  a  poor,  plodding  farmer,  without  much  skill  in  his  busi- 
ness, Avithout  enterprise  or  knowledge. 

It  soon  occurred  to  him,  however,  that  this  marvel  of  a  boy 


ZERAIl    COLBURN.  1G9 

could  be  made  more  productive  to  him  than  a  mortgaged  farm ; 
and,  accordingly,  he  took  him  to  a  neighboring  town,  where  a 
court  was  in  session,  and  thence  to  Montpclier,  where  the  legis- 
lature was  assembled.  There,  in  the  presence  of  judges,  law- 
yers, and  legislators,  the  boy  performed  such  astounding  feats 
in  mental  arithmetic,  that  the  report  of  his  exploits  was  spread 
over  the  world.  During  this  first  year  of  his  exhibition  ho 
solved  such  questions  as  the  following,  in  periods  of  time  vary- 
mg  from  three  seconds  to  one  minute  :  — 

*'IIow  many  seconds  are  there  in  2,000  years?"  Answer: 
63,072,000,000. 

"  How  many  strokes  will  a  clock  strike  in  2,000  years  ?  "  An- 
swer :  113,880,000. 

"  What  is  the  product  of  12,225,  multiplied  by  1,223?"  An- 
swer: 14,951,175. 

"What  is  tlie  square  of  1,449?  "     Answer  :  2,099, GOl. 

"In  seven  acres  of  corn,  Avith  17  rows  to  each  acre,  G4  hills 
to  each  row,  8  ears  to  each  hill,  and  150  kernels  to  each  ear, 
how  many  kernels  are  there?"     Answer:  9,139,200. 

Practice  gave  him  greater  facility.  The  next  year  he  per- 
formed such  problems  as  these  :  — 

"  How  many  hours  are  there  in  1,811  years?"  Answer  (in 
twenty  seconds)  :  15,804,360. 

"How  many  seconds  in  11  years?"  Answer  (in  four  sec- 
onds) :  346,896,000. 

"W^hat  sum,  multiplied  by  itself,  will  produce  998,001?" 
Answer  (in  three  seconds)  :  999. 

"  How  many  hours  in  38  years  2  mouths  and  7  days  ?  "  An- 
swer (in  six  seconds)  :  334,488. 

Besides  performing  these  calculations,  the  boy  showed  equal 
quickness  in  detecting  arithmetical  tricks  and  puzzles,  such  as 
the  followins: :  — 

"  Which  is  the  most,  twice  twenty-five  or  twice  five  and  twen- 
ty (2  X  5  -f  20)  ?  "     Answer  (in  a  moment)  :  Twice  twenty-five. 

"  Which  is  the  most,  six  dozen  dozen  or  half  a  dozen  dozen?  " 
Answer  :  Six  dozen  dozen. 

"How  many  black  beans  will  make  five  white  ones  ?  "  "  .Five/' 
said  the  boy,  "  if  you  skin  them." 


170  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY. 

The  astonishment  everywhere  excited  by  this  prodigy,  our 
aged  readers  may  still  recollect.  Some  people  thought  him  a 
conjurer.  A  woman  came  to  him  one  day,  saying  that  twenty 
years  ago  she  had  had  some  spoons  stolen,  and  asked  him  where 
they  were.  One  good  lady  said  that,  in  her  opinion,  God  had 
endowed  the  child  with  a  miraculous  gift  in  order  that  he  might 
explain  the  m^^sterious  numbers  of  the  prophecies.  Some  peo- 
ple manifested  a  certain  degree  of  terror  in  his  presence,  as 
though  he  were  possessed  of  the  devil.  What  added  to  the 
marvel  was,  that  the  boy  was  totally  unable  to  explain  the  pro- 
cesses by  which  he  effected  his  calculations. 

"God  put  it  into  my  head,"  he  said,  one  day,  to  an  inquisi- 
tive lady,  "  but  I  cannot  put  it  into  yours." 

Some  gentlemen  of  Boston  offered  to  undertake  the  education 
of  the  boy,  that  this  wonderful  talent  might  be  cultivated.  But 
the  foolish  father,  thinking  he  could  gain  more  by  exhibiting 
his  son,  refused  the  offer.  The  public,  disapproving  this  selfish 
conduct,  were  less  inclined  than  before  to  attend  the  exhibitions  ; 
and  therefore,  after  an  unprofitable  tour  in  the  South,  Abia  Col- 
burn  took  his  son  to  Ensfland. 

In  London,  where  he  was  exhibited  for  two  or  three  years, 
his  performances  were  almost  incredibly  diflicult.  Princes, 
nobles,  philosophers,  teachers,  and  the  public  were  equally  as- 
tounded. He  gave,  in  less  than  half  a  minute,  the  number  of 
seconds  that  had  elapsed  since  the  Christian  era.  He  extracted 
the  square  root  of  numbers  consisting  of  six  figures,  and  the  cube 
root  of  numbers  consisting  of  nine  figures,  in  less  time  than  the 
result  could  be  put  down  on  paper.  He  was  asked  one  day  the 
factors  of  171,395.  There  are  seven  pairs  of  factors  by  which 
that  number  can  be  produced,  and  only  seven ;  the  boy  named 
them  all  as  rapidly  as  they  could  be  recorded.  He  w^as  required 
to  name  the  factors  of  36,083.  "There  are  none,"  was  his  in- 
stantaneous reply;  and  he  was  right.  Again,  the  number,  4,- 
294,967,297,  was  proposed  to  him  to  find  the  factors.  Now, 
certain  French  mathematicians  had  asserted  that  this  was  a  prime 
number;  but  the  German,  Euler,  had  discovered  that  its  factors 
are  641  and  6,700,417.  This  wonderful  boy,  then  aged  eight 
years,  by  the  mere  operation  of  his  mind,  named  the  factors  ia 


ZERAII    COLBURN.  171 

about  twenty  seconds.  He  -was  once  requested  to  multiply 
999,999  by  itself.  At  first  he  said  he  could  not  do  it.  But,  in 
looking  at  the  number  again,  he  perceived  that  multiplying  37,- 
037,  by  37,037,  and  the  product  twice  by  27,  was  just  the  same 
as  multiplying  999,999  by  999,999.  How  he  discovered  this  is 
a  myster}',  but  he  soon  gave  the  correct  answer :  999,998,000,- 
001.  Then  he  said  he  could  multiply  that  by  49,  which  he  im- 
mediately did,  and  the  product  by  25,  producing  at  length  tho 
enormous  result  of  G0,024,879,950,0G0,025.  lie  could  raise 
numbers  consisting  of  one  figure  to  the  sixteenth  power  in  less 
than  a  minute. 

Though  these  exploits  excited  universal  wonder  in  England, 
the  exhibition  of  the  boy,  owing  to  the  great  expenses  attend- 
ing it,  were  not  very  profitable  and  gradually  became  less  so. 
At  lenijth  the  benevolent  Earl  of  Bristol  enojac^ed  to  undertake 
the  education  of  the  child  at  ^yestminster  school,  agreeing  to 
pay  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year  for  eight  years.  But 
Zerah  showed  no  remarkable  aptitude  for  study,  not  even  in 
arithmetic  and  geometry.  Meanwhile  the  fiither  lived  in  pov- 
erty. Thinking  still  to  make  a  profit  from  the  boy,  he  took  him 
away  from  school  and  carried  him  to  France,  where  he  was 
again  exhibited,  but  without  success.  Some  gentlemen  of  Paris 
procured  from  Napoleon  his  admission  to  a  military  school;  but 
the  mcddlins:  father  ae^ain  interfered  and  returned  with  him  to 
London.  The  patience  of  their  English  friends  being  then  ex- 
hausted, they  sunk  into  extreme  poverty.  Colburn  then  urged 
his  son  to  go  upon  the  stage  as  an  actor,  and  he  had  still  influ- 
ence enough  to  procure  for  the  youth  instruction  from  no  less  a 
person  than  Charles  Kemble.  For  a  year  or  two  Zerah  led  tho 
life  of  a  strolling  actor,  playing  in  tragedy  and  comedy,  writing 
plays  which  no  manager  w^ould  accept,  and  living  always  in 
great  poverty.  Then  he  opened  a  small  school,  and  gained  a 
little  money  by  performing  calculations  for  an  astronomer.  At 
lenofth,  bein^:  relieved  of  the  incubus  of  his  worthless  father, 
w^ho  died,  the  liberality  ot  the  Earl  of  Bristol  enabled  him  to 
return  to  America,  where  he  found  his  mother  still  living  upon 
her  farm.  lie  was  then  twenty-one  years  of  age.  After  spend- 
ing a  short  time  in  teaching,  he  became  a  Methodist  preacher. 


172  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

and  remained  in  that  vocation  till  his  death.  He  died  in  Ver- 
mont in  1839,  aged  34  years.  Neither  as  a  preacher  nor  as  a 
man  did  he  display  even  average  ability.  He  was,  in  fact,  a 
very  dull  preacher,  and  a  very  ordinary  person  in  every  re- 
spect. 

As  he  grew  older  his  calculating  power  diminished  ;  but  this 
was  merely  from  want  of  practice.  Doubtless,  he  could  have 
retained  his  ability  if  he  had  continued  to  use  it. 

He  was  able,  during  the  later  years  of  his  youth,  to  explain 
the  processes  by  which  he  performed  his  calculations,  some  of 
which  were  so  simple  that  they  have  since  been  employed  in  the 
Kew  England  schools.  We  have  seen  a  class  of  boys,  not  more 
than  twelve  years  of  age,  multiply  six  figures  by  six  figures, 
without  slate  and  pencil,  by  the  method  of  Zerah  Colburn.  j 

His  mode  of  extracting  the  square  root,  also,  can  be  acquired  i 

by  boys  quick  at  figures.     But  this  docs  not  lessen  our  aston-  i 

ishment  that  a  boy  of  seven  years,  wholly  untaught,  should  have 
discovered  methods  in  calculation  that  had  escaped  the  vigilance  ; 

of  mathematicians,  from  the  days  cf  Euclid  to  our  own  time.  ) 


JOHK    ADAMS.  173 


JOHN   ADAMS. 


-•o^ 


People  are  mistaken  who  suppose  that  we  have  in  America 
no  old  famih'es.  Wg  have  perhaps  as  many  as  other  countries, 
only  the  torrent  of  emigration,  and  the  suddenness  with  which 
new  fortunes  are  made  and  lost,  conceal  the  fact  from  our  obser- 
vation. The  Adams  family,  for  example,  which  descended  from 
Thomas  Adams,  one  of  the  first  proprietors  of  Massachusetts, 
has  gone  on  steadily  increasing  in  wealth  and  numbers  from 
1620  to  the  present  time,  and  the  family  estate  still  comprises 
the  lands  originally  bought  by  the  Adams  who  was  grandfather 
to  the  second  President  of  the  United  States.  John  Adams  died 
worth  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  His  son,  John  Quincy 
Adams,  left,  it  is  said,  twice  as  much ;  and  Ins  son,  Charles 
Francis  Adams,  now  minister  to  London,  is  supposed  to  be 
worth  two  millions. 

John  Adams  was  born  October  19, 1735.  His  father,  who  was 
also  named  John,  was  a  farmer  in  good  cirnumstances  ;  and,  fol- 
lowinir  the  custom  of  such  in  Massachusetts,  he  resolved  to  brini^ 
up  one  of  his  sons  to  the  ministry,  and  sent  him  to  Harvard  Col- 
lege. In  those  days  distinction  of  rank  was  so  universally  rec- 
oirnized  that  the  students  at  Harvard  or  Yale  were  recorded  and 
arranged  according  to  the  rank  and  dignity  of  their  parents.  I 
suppose  the  son  of  the  governor  would  have  taken  precedence 
of  all  the  rest,  unless  there  chanced  to  be  in  the  college  a  scion 
of  the  English  aristocracy.  John  Adams,  in  a  class  of  twenty- 
four,  ranked  fourteenth.  On  state  occasions,  when  the  class  en- 
tered a  room,  he  would  have  gone  in  fourteenth.  His  grandson 
tells  us,  that  he  would  not  have  held  even  as  high  a  rank  as  this, 
but  that  his  mother's  ancestors  were  persons  of  greater  conse- 
quence than  his  father's.    This  custom  of  arranging  Ihc  students 


174  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

in  accordance  with  the  supposed  social  importance  of  their  par- 
ents prevailed  at  Harvard  until  the  year  1769,  after  which  the 
alphabetical  order  was  substituted. 

Upon  leaving  college,  he  did  what  almost  all  poor  students 
did  at  that  day,  kept  school  for  awhile  before  entering  upon  the 
studies  preparatory  to  hvs  profession.  He  tells  us,  in  his  diary, 
that  on  commencement  day  he  attracted  some  attention  by  his 
speech,  which  led  to  his  being  appointed  Latin  master  to  the 
grammar  school  of  Worcester,  and  that  three  weeks  after,  when 
he  was  not  yet  twenty  years  of  age,  a  horse  was  sent  for  him 
and  a  man  to  attend  him. 

"We  made  the  journey,"  he  says,  "about  sixty  miles,  in  one 
day,  and  I  entered  on  my  office." 

When  the  time  came  for  him  finally  to  choose  a  profession,  he 
discovered  in  his  mind  a  decided  repugnance  to  that  of  the  min- 
istry. 

"I  saw,"  he  tells  us,  "such  a  spirit  of  dogmatism  and  bigotry 
in  clergy  and  laity,  that  if  I  should  be  a  priest  I  must  take  my 
side  and  pronounce  as  positively  as  any  of  them,  or  never  get  a 
parish,  or,  getting  it,  must  soon  leave  it.  Very  strong  doubts^ 
arose  in  my  mind  whether  I  was  made  for  a  pulpit  in  such  times, 
and  I  began  to  think  of  other  professions.  I  perceived  very 
clearly,  as  I  thought,  that  the  study  of  theology  and  the  pursuit 
of  it  as  a  profession  would  involve  me  in  endless  altercations 
and  make  my  life  miserable,  without  any  prospect  of  doing  any 
good  to  my  fellow-men." 

The  truth  was  that  he  had  ceased  to  believe  some  of  the  doc- 
trines of  the  orthodox  church  of  New  England,  and  had  become 
what  was  then  called  a  Deist,  and  what  is  now  more  politely 
termed  a  Unitarian ;  to  which  faith  he  ever  after  adhered. 

His  father  had  now  done  for  him  all  that  he  could  afford,  and 
as  it  was  a  custom  then  for  students  and  apprentices  to  pay  a 
liberal  fee  to  their  instructors  and  masters,  he  was  somewhat 
embarrassed  in  entering  the  profession  of  the  law,  which  he  had 
chosen.  In  his  dilemma  he  went  to  one  of  the  lawyers  of 
Worcester,  whose  performances  in  court  he  had  admired,  stated 
his  circumstances,  and  offered  himself  to  him  as  his  clerk  and 
pupil.     The  lawyer  replied,  after  considering  the  matter  for  a 


JOHN    ADAMS.  175 

few  days,  that  he  miglit  hoard  in  his  house  for  the  sum  aHowcd 
by  the  town,  and  that  he  should  pay  him  a  fee  of  a  hundred  dol- 
lars whenever  it  might  he  convenient.  The  young  man  jumped 
nt  this  oflcr  and  was  soon  established  as  school-master  and  law- 
student.  In  due  time  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and,  return- 
ing to  his  father's  house,  endeavored  to  set  up  in  the  practice  of 
his  profession. 

His  father  lived  then  at  Braintree,  a  small  and  obscure  town 
fourteen  miles  from  Boston,  where  there  was  very  little  chance 
for  a  young  lawyer.  For  some  years  his  gains  were  small  and 
his  anxieties  severe.  It  was  not  until  after  his  father's  death 
that  his  circumstances  were  alleviated,  and  he  was  enabled  to 
marry.  His  marriage  was  one  of  the  most  fortunate  ever  con- 
tracted in  this  world  ;  for  not  only  was  the  lady  one  of  the  most 
amiable  and  accomplished  of  women,  but,  being  a  member  of  a 
numerous  and  influential  family,  she  brought  to  her  husband  a 
great  increase  of  business.  He  was  then  twenty-nine  years  of 
age,  full  of  energy  and  ambition,  and  gradually  made  his  way  to 
a  profitable  practice. 

The  first  office  the  future  President  ever  held  was  that  of  road- 
master  to  the  town  in  which  he  lived.  He  was  next  intrusted 
with  three  offices  at  once,  —  namely,  selectman,  assessor,  and 
overseer  of  the  poor ;  the  duties  of  all  of  which  he  discharged  to 
the  satisfiiction  of  his  neighbors.  It  was  during  the  Stamp-Act 
agitation  of  1765  that  he  began  to  emerge  from  the  obscurity 
of  a  country  lawyer.  One  of  the  odious  and  tyrannical  meas- 
ures of  the  royal  government  was  -to  close  all  the  courts  in  the 
colon}^,  which  put  a  sudden  termination  to  the  business  of  the 
lawyers. 

"  I  was,"  says  Adams  in  his  Diary,  "  but  just  getting  into  my 
gears,  just  getting  under  sail,  and  an  embargo  is  laid  upon  the 
ship  !  Thirty  years  of  my  life  are  passed  in  preparation  for 
business.  I  have  had  poverty  to  struggle  with  ;  envy  and  jeal- 
ousy and  malice  of  enemies  to  encounter;  no  friends,  or  but 
few,  to  assist  me ;  so  that  I  had  groped  in  dark  obscurity  till 
of  late,  and  had  but  just  become  known  and  gained  a  small  de- 
gree of  reputation,  when  this  execrable  project  was  set  on  foot 


176  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

for  my  ruin,  as  well  as  that  of  America  in  general,  and  of  Great 
Britain  ! " 

But,  while  he  was  indulging  in  these  gloomy  apprehensions, 
he  was  astonished  to  receive  a  letter  from  Boston,  informing 
him  that  that  town,  by  a  unanimous  vote,  had  appointed  him 
one  of  its  counsel  to  appear  before  the  governor  in  support  of 
the  memorial  praying  that  the  courts  be  reopened.  This  meas- 
ure of  closing  the  courts  of  law  was  not  long  persisted  in ;  but 
the  honor  conferred  upon  John  Adams,  by  so  important  a  place 
as  Boston,  brought  him  into  increased  prominence,  and  opened 
the  way  to  more  valuable  business  than  had  previously  fallen  to 
his  share.  It  led  soon  to  his  removal  to  Boston,  where  he  con- 
tinued to  reside  down  to  the  period  when  he  was  called  to  the 
service  of  his  country  in  the  Kevolutionary  war. 

One  of  the  most  honorable  actions  of  his  life  was  defendinor 
the  British  soldiers  who  participated  in  what  is  called  the  "  Bos- 
ton Massacre."  An  altercation  having  arisen  between  the  sol- 
diers and  some  of  the  town's  people,  it  ended  in  the  soldiers 
firing  upon  the  crowd,  as  they  alleged,  in  self-defence.  Being 
put  upon  their  trial  for  murder,  John  Adams  braved  the  oblo- 
quy of  defending  them.  It  was  honorable  to  the  people  of  Bos- 
ton that  they  should  have  recognized  the  right  of  those  soldiers, 
odious  as  they  were,  to  a  fair  trial,  and  respected  the  motives  of 
their  favorite  in  volunteering  to  defend  them. 

When  the  first  Congress  was  summoned  to  meet  at  Philadel- 
phia, John  Adams  was  one  of  the  five  gentlemen  elected  to  rep- 
resent the  Colony  of  Massachusetts.  It  was  sorely  against  his  will 
and  his  interest  that  he  accepted  the  appointment.  In  the  debate 
which  preceded  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  he  is  said,  by 
Mr.  Jefferson,  to  have  excelled  all  his  colleagues.  There  was  a 
boldness,  decision,  and  fire  about  his  speeches  which  carried 
conviction  to  many  wavering  minds.  When  the  great  measure 
was  passed  on  the  2d  of  July,  1776,  he  went  home,  and  wrote 
that  celebrated  letter  to  his  wife :  — 

"The  day  is  passed.  The  2d  of  July,  1776,  will  be  the 
most  memorable  epoch  in  the  history  of  America.  I  am  apt  to 
believe  that  it  will  be  celebrated  by  succeeding  generations  as 
the  great  anniversary  festival.     It  ought  to  be  commemorated 


JOHN    ADAMS.  177 

as  tlic  day  of  clelivorancc  by  solciiiii  acts  of  devotion  to  God 
Almighty.  It  ought  to  be  solemnized  Avith  pomp  and  parade, 
"Nvith  shows,  games,  sports,  guns,  bells,  bonlires,  and  illumina- 
tions, from  one  end  of  this  continent  to  the  other,  from  this 
time  forward  for  evermore. 

"You  will  think  me  transported  with  enthusiasm,  but  I  am 
not.  I  am  well  aware  of  the  toil,  and  blood,  and  treasure  that 
it  will  cost  ns  to  maintain  this  declaration  and  support  and  de- 
fend these  States.  Yet,  through  all  the  gloom,  I  can  see  the  rays 
of  ravishing  light  and  glory.  I  can  see  that  the  end  is  more 
than  worth  all  the  means,  and  that  posterity  will  triumph  in  that 
day's  transaction,  even  although  we  should  rue  it, —  which,  I 
trust  in  God,  we  shall  not." 

The  reader  will  observe  that  he  speaks  of  the  second  day  of 
July  as  the  one  which  posterity  would  commemorate.  It  was 
indeed  on  that  day  that  the  great  decision  was  made  by  Con- 
gress ;  but,  as  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  formally 
approved  and  signed  on  the  fourth  of  July,  that  day  has  ever 
been  observed  as  the  birthday  of  the  Republic. 

With  his  services  in  promoting  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, the  great  part  of  Mr.  Adams'  life  ended.  He  was,  soon 
after,  appointed  to  go  abroad  as  one  of  the  ambassadors  repre- 
sentins:  the  infant  nation  at  Paris ;  but  never  was  there  a  man 
less  at  home  in  a  court,  or  less  adapted  by  nature  for  a  diplo- 
,matist.  He  neither  understood  nor  respected  the  people  among 
whom  he  lived,  and  whom  he  was  required  to  gratify  and  con- 
ciliate. At  the  same  time  he  was  curiously  destitute  of  all  that 
we  call  tact,  while  he  w^as  possessed  with  a  vanity  the  most  egre- 
gious that,  ever  blinded  a  man  of  real  worth  and  ability.  He 
oflended  the  French  ministry;  he  perplexed  Dr.  Franklin,  who 
was  one  of  the  greatest  diplomatists  that  ever  lived,  as  well  as 
one  of  the  most  honest  and  simple ;  he  excited  the  ridicule  of 
the  French  people.  In  a  word,  he  was  out  of  place  in  France, 
and  rendered  his  countrv  little  service  there  and  less  honor. 
Returning  home  some  time  after  the  conclusion  of  peace,  he  was 
called  once  more  from  his  farm,  at  Quincy,  to  serve  as  Vice- 
Pref  ident  under  the  new  Constitution.    This  office  he  filled  with 

12 


178  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

credit  and  dignity  for  eight  3^ears,  at  the  expiration  of  which  he 
succeeded  General  Washington  in  the  presidency. 

The  same  qualities  which  made  him  a  bad  negotiator  pre- 
vented his  acquiring  credit  as  the  chief  magistrate  of  the  nation. 
He  was  a  bad  judge  of  men,  and  he  was  wedded  to  certain  an- 
cient and  unpopular  ideas  which  prevented  his  retaining  the  con- 
fidence of  the  masses.  He  was  a  kind  of  republican  tory,  at  a 
time  when  the  feeling  of  the  nation  was  setting  powerfully  in  the 
op2)osite  direction.  At  the  same  time,  his  vanity,  his  quickness 
of  temper,  his  total  want  of  management,  his  blind  trust  in  some 
men  and  his  blind  distrust  of  others,  continually  estranged  from 
him  those  who  would  naturally  have  been  his  friends  and  sup- 
porters. After  serving  four  years,  he  was  whirled  from  his 
place  by  a  tornado  of  democratic  feeling. 

Not  to  be  once  re-elected  was  then  considered  as  a  disgrace, 
and  Mr.  Adams  was,  for  many  years,  regarded  as  a  man  who 
had  been  tried  in  a  high  place  and  found  wanting.  His  grand- 
son mentions  that  his  letters,  during  the  last  year  of  his  presi- 
dency, may  be  counted  by  thousands ;  while  those  of  the  next 
year  averaged  less  than  two  a  week  !  Gradually,  however,  as 
part}^  passions  subsided,  the  real  and  great  merits  of  John  Ad- 
ams were  once  more  recognized,  and  his  errors  and  foibles  were 
first  forgiven,  and  then  forgotten.  During  the  last  twenty-six 
years  of  his  life  he  lived  upon  the  product  of  two  or  three  farms 
w^hich  he  possessed,  one  of  which  was  that  of  his  own  father  and 
grandfather.  Toward  the  close  of  his  life  he  gave  up  one  of 
his  farms  to  his  son,  John  Qnincy,  on  condition  of  receiving 
from  him  an  annuity  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

He  lived  to  the  great  age  of  ninety  years.  He  lived  long 
enough  to  see  his  son  President  of  the  United  States.  He  lived 
long  enough  to  read  the  novels  of  Scott  and  Cooper,  and  the 
poetry  of  Byron.  He  lived  long  enough  to  hail  the  dawn  of 
the  Fourth  of  July,  1826.  A  few  days  before,  a  gentleman 
called  upon  him  and  asked  him  to  give  a  toast,  which  should  be 
presented  at  the  Fourth  of  July  banquet  as  coming  from  him. 
The  old  man  said :  — 

"  I  will  give  you  :  Independence  forever  !  " 

"  Will  you  not  add  something  to  it  ?  "  asked  his  visitor. 


JOHN    ADAMS.  170 

''Not  a  word,"  was  the  reply. 

The  toast  was  presented  at  the  banquet,  where  it  was  received 
with  deafening  cheers;  and  ahiiost  at  that  moment  the  soul  of 
this  great  patriot  passed  away.  Among  the  last  words  that  could 
be  gathered  from  his  dying  lips  were  these  :  — 

"Thomas  Jeilerson  still  survives  !  " 

But  Thomas  Jefferson  did  not  survive.  On  the  same  Fourth 
of  July,  a  few  hours  before,  Jefferson  also  departed  this  life. 
Few  events  have  ever  occurred  in  the  United  States  more  thrill- 
ing to  the  people  than  the  death,  on  the  same  anniversary  of  the 
nation's  birth,  of  these  two  aged,  venerable,  and  venerated  ])ub- 
lic  servants. 

The  remains  of  John  Adams  and  his  wife  repose,  side  by  side, 
in  a  church  of  the  town  in  which  they  lived.  Beneath  a  bust  of 
the  President,  by  Horatio  Greenough,  may  be  read  the  follow- 
ing inscription,  written  by  John  Quincy  Adams  :  — 

"  Beneath  these  walls 

Are  deposited  the  mortal  remains  of 

Jonx  Adams, 

Son  of  John  and  Susannah  (Bojiston)  Adams, 

Second  President  of  the  United  States  j 

Born,  19  October,  1735. 

On  the  Fourth  of  July,  177G, 

He  pledged  his  life,  fortune,  and  sacred  honor 

To  the  Independence  of  his  country. 

On  the  third  of  September,  1783, 

He  aflSxed  his  seal  to  the  definitive  treaty  with  Great  Britain, 

Which  acknowledged  that  independence 

And  consummated  the  redemption  of  his  pledge. 

On  the  Fourth  of  July,  182G, 

He  was  summoned 

To  the  Independence  of  Immortality, 

And  to  the  judgment  of  his  God. 

This  house  will  bear  witness  to  his  piety; 

This  town,  his  birthplace,  to  his  munificence ; 

History,  to  his  patriotism; 

Posterity,  to  the  depth  and  compass  of  his  mind. 

At  his  side 

Sleeps  till  the  trump  shall  sound, 

Abig.\xl, 

His  beloved  and  only  wife, 

Daughter  of  William  and  Elizabeth  (Quincy)  Smith; 

In  every  relation  of  life  a  pattern 


180  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

Of  filial,  conjugal,  maternal  and  social  virtues. 

Born  November  the  llth,  1744, 

Deceased  28  October,  1818, 

Aged  74. 

Married  25  October,  1764. 

During  an  union  of  more  tlian  half  a  century 

They  survived  in  harmony  of  sentiment,  principle  and  affection. 

The  tempests  of  civil  commotion ; 

Meeting  undaunted,  and  surmounting 

The  terrors  and  trials  of  that  revolution 

"Which  secured  the  freedom  of  their  country, 

Improved  the  condition  of  their  times, 

And  brightened  the  prospects  of  futurity 

To  the  race  of  man  upon  earth. 

Pilgrim, 

Trom  lives  thus  spent  thy  earthly  duties  learn ; 

From  fancy's  dreams  to  active  virtue  turn ; 

Let  freedom,  friendship,  faith,  thy  soul  engage, 

And  serve,  like  them,  thy  country  and  thy  age  * 


ADAMS  AT  THE  COURT  OF  GEORGE  III.   181 


JOHN  ADAMS  AND  MRS.  ADAMS  AT  THE  COURT 

OF    GEORGE   III, 


-*'>•- 


There  was  excitement  in  the  gi-cat  world  of  London  on  tlie 
1st  of  June,  1785  ;  for  on  that  day  a  minister  representing  the 
United  States  was  to  be  presented,  for  the  first  time,  to  a  king 
of  England.  And  who  should  that  minister  be  but  John  Adams, 
the  man  who  had  taken  the  lead  in  urging  on  the  revolted  colo- 
nies to  declare  themselves  an  independent  nation  ! 

The  old  palace  of  St.  James  was  filled  with  ministers,  am- 
bassadors, bishops,  lords,  and  corn-tiers.  When  Mr.  Adams  en- 
tered the  antechamber,  attended  by  the  master  of  ceremonies, 
all  eyes  were  turned  upon  him.  He  was  a  stout,  rather  under- 
sized man,  somewhat  awkward  in  his  gait  and  movements,  with 
a  remarkably  short  face  and  a  vast  expanse  of  bald  crown. 
Large  whiskers,  in  the  English  style,  gave  still  greater  breadth 
to  his  countenance.  As  he  stood  there  in  his  court  di'css,  his 
ample  coat  adorned  with  lace,  his  legs  clad  in  silk  stockings,  and 
his  shoes  surmounted  with  silver  buckles,  he  looked  like  an  Eng- 
lish country  gentleman,  who  had  come  up  to  court  for  the  first 
time,  and  felt  not  quite  at  his  ease.  Some  of  the  diplomatic 
corps,  whom  he  had  met  in  Holland  and  France,  approached 
and  conversed  with  him  while  he  was  waiting  to  be  summoned 
to  the  king's  closet. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  secretary  of  state  came  to  conduct  him 
to  the  king.  The  royal  closet  was  merely  an  ordinary  parlor. 
The  king  was  seated  in  an  arm-chair  at  the  end  opposite  the 
door,  — a  portly  gentleman,  with  a  red  face,  white  eyebrows 
and  white  hair,  wearing  upon  his  breast  the  star  indicative  of 
his  rank.  Upon  entering  the  room,  Mr.  Adams  bowed  low  to 
the  king,  then  advancing  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  he  bowed 
a  second  time,  and,  upon  reaching  the  immediate  presence  of  the 


182  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    PIOGRAPHY. 

king,  lie  made  a  third  deep  reverence.  This  was  the  prescribed 
custom  of  the  cornet  at  that  day.  The  only  persons  present  at 
the  interview  were  the  king,  IMr.  Adams,  and  the  secretary  of 
state,  all  of  whom  were  visibly  embarrassed.  It  was,  indeed, 
a  scene  without  a  parallel  in  the  whole  history  of  diplomacy. 

Mr.  Adams  was  the  least  moved  of  them  all,  thouirh  he  after- 
wards  confessed  that  he  was  much  agitated,  and  spoke  with  a 
voice  that  was  sometimes  tremulous.  He  had  no  bitterness 
toward  England.  His  enemies  accused  him  even  of  a  secret 
preference  for  the  English  constitution,  and  a  certain  tenderness 
for  the  king,  of  whom  he  had  once  been  a  loyal  subject. 

Having  completed  the  three  reverences,  he  addressed  the  king 
in  the  following  words  :  — 

"  Sir,  — The  United  States  of  America  have  appointed  me 
their  minister  plenipotentiary  to  your  Majesty,  and  have  directed 
me  to  deliver  to  your  ^Majesty  this  letter  which  contains  the  evi- 
dence of  it.  It  is  in  obedience  to  their  exj^ress  commands  that 
I  have  the  honor  to  assure  your  Majesty  of  their  unanimous  dis- 
position and  desire  to  cultivate  the  most  friendly  and  liberal  in- 
tercourse between  your  Majesty's  subjects  and  their  citizens,  and 
of  their  best  wishes  for  your  Majesty's  health  and  happiness,  and 
for  that  of  your  royal  family.  The  appointment  of  a  minister 
from  the  United  States  to  your  Majesty's  court  will  form  an 
epoch  in  the  history  of  England  and  of  America.  I  think  my- 
self more  fortunate  than  all  my  fellow-citizens  in  having  the 
distinguished  honor  to  be  the  first  to  stand  in  your  Majesty's 
royal  presence  in  a  diplomatic  character;  and  I  shall  esteem 
myself  the  happiest  of  men  if  I  can  be  instrumental  in  recom- 
mending my  country  more  and  more  to  your  ^Majesty's  royal 
benevolence,  and  of  restoring  an  entire  esteem,  confidence,  and 
afiection,  or,  in  better  words,  the  good  old  natin^e  and  the  old 
good  humor  between  people  who,  though  separated  by  an  ocean 
and  under  different  governments,  have  the  same  language,  a 
similar  religion  and  kindred  blood. 

"  I  beg  your  ^Majesty's  permission  to  add,  that  although  I  have 
sometimes  before  been  entrusted  by  my  country,  it  was  never 
in  my  whole  life  in  a  manner  so  agreeable  to  myself." 


ADAMS     AT    THE     COURT     OF     GEORGE    III.      183 

The  king  seemed  unprepared  for  a  speeeli  so  pacific  and  coni- 
plimentary.  He  listened  to  it  with  close  attention  and  ^vith  e\'i- 
dent  emotion.  In  pronouncing  his  reply,  he  frequently  hesitated, 
and  there  was  a  tremor  of  emotion  in  his  voice,  lie  addressed 
Mr.  Adams  in  the  following  terms  :  — 

"Sir, — The  circumstances  of  this  audience  are  so  extraor- 
dinary, the  language  you  have  now  held  is  so  extremely  projoer, 
and  the  feelings  you  have  discovered  so  justly  adapted  to  the 
occasion,  that  I  must  say  that  I  not  only  receive  with  pleasure 
the  assurance  of  the  friendly  dispositions  of  the  United  States, 
but  that  I  am  very  glad  the  choice  has  fallen  upon  you  to  Ijc 
their  minister.  I  wish  you,  sir,  to  believe,  and  that  it  may  be 
understood  in  America,  that  I  have  done  nothing  in  the  late 
contest  but  what  I  thought  myself  indispensably  bound  to  do  by 
the  duty  which  I  owed  to  my  people.  I  will  be  very  frank  with 
3'ou.  I  was  the  last  to  consent  to  the  separation  ;  but  the  sepa- 
ration having  been  made,  and  having  become  inevitable,  I  have 
always  said,  as  I  say  now,  that  I  would  be  the  first  to  merit  the 
friendship  of  the  United  States  as  an  independent  power ;  the 
moment  I  see  such  sentiments  and  such  language  as  yours  pre- 
vail, and  a  disposition  to  give  this  country  the  preference,  that 
moment  I  shall  say,  let  the  circumstances  of  language,  religion, 
and  blood  have  their  natural  and  full  effect." 

Except  the  remark  about  "giving  this  countvy  the  preference  " 
that  is,  the  preference  over  France  in  commercial  privileges,  this 
speech  was  worthy  the  king  of  a  great  country.  It  was  spoiled 
by  such  a  broad  allusion  to  disputed  questions,  and  such  a  man- 
ifestation of  desire  to  gain  a  p7^qfit  from  "  the  circumstances  of 
language,  religion,  and  blood." 

When  the  speech  was  concluded,  the  king  entered  into  con- 
versation with  Mr.  Adams.  He  asked  him  whether  he  had  came 
last  from  France.  Mr.  Adams  replied  that  he  had.  The  king 
then  assuming  a  familiar  manner  said,  laughing  :  — 

"  There  is  an  opinion  among  some  people  that  you  are  not 
the  most  attached  of  all  your  countrymen  to  the  manners  of 
France." 


184  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

This  was  touching  Mr.  Adams  upon  a  tender  point ;  fv)r,  dur* 
ing  his  long  residence  in  France,  he  had  been  recognized  as  the 
leader  of  the  anti-French  party,  and  had  come  into  disagreeable 
collision  with  the  French  ministry,  and  with  Dr.  Franklin,  on 
that  account.  He  thought  the  king's  remark,  as  he  tells  us,  "an 
indiscretion  and  a  departure  from  dignity."  He  was  deter- 
mined, however,  not  to  deny  the  truth,  and  yet  not  allow  the 
king  to  infer  that  he  had  any  undue  regard  to  England.  So, 
throwing  off  as  much  of  his  gravity  as  he  could,  he  said  with  a 
mixture  of  gayety  and  decision  :  — 

"  That  opinion,  sir,  is  not  mistaken ;  I  must  avow  to  your 
Majesty  that  I  have  no  attachment  but  to  my  own.  country." 

The  king  instantly  replied  :  — 

"An  honest  man  will  never  have  any  other." 

The  Idng  said  something  in  an  undertone  to  the  secretary  of 
state,  and  then  turning  toward  Mr.  Adams,  bowed  to  him, 
which  was  the  sign  that  the  interview  was  to  close.  Mr.  Adams 
retired  in  the  usual  manner ;  that  is,  he  bowed  low,  then  step- 
ped backwards  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  where  he  bowed 
again,  and  then  stepped  backward  to  the  door,  bowed  once  more, 
and  backed  out.  The  master  of  ceremonies  took  him  in  charge, 
and  conducted  him  throuo^h  lonoj  lines  of  servants  to  his  car- 
riage,  while  the  porters  and  under-porters,  "  roared  out  like 
thunder,"  as  he  tells  us,  "Mr.  Adams'  servants,"  "Mr.  Adams' 
carriaoje." 

A  few  days  after,  the  American  minister  was  presented  to  the 
queen,  smTounded  by  her  daughters  and  the  ladies  of  her  court. 
On  this  occasion,  Mr.  Adams  indulged  in  a  flight  of  eloquence 
which  makes  us  smile  when  we  remember  that  it  was  addressed 
to  good,  plain,  simple  Queen  Charlotte.  Our  lady  readers  will, 
perhaps,  be  glad  to  read  this  curious  effusion :  — 

"  MAD^i:^,  —  Among  the  many  circumstances  which  have  ren- 
dered my  mission  to  his  majesty  desirable  to  me,  I  have  ever  con- 
sidered it  as  a  principal  one,  that  I  should  have  an  o2:)portunity  of 
making  my  court  to  a  great  queen,  whose  royal  virtues  and  tal- 
ents have  ever  been  acknowledged  and  admired  in  America,  as 
well  as  in  all  the  nations  of  Europe,  as  an  example  to  princesses 


ADAMS  AT  THE  COURT  OF  GEORGE  III.  185 

and  the  glory  of  her  sex.  Permit  me,  mudtim,  to  recom- 
mend to  your  majesty's  royal  goodness  a  rising  empire  and  an 
infant  virgin  world.  Another  Europe,  madam,  is  rising  in 
America.  To  a  philosophical  mind,  like  your  majesty's,  there 
cannot  be  a  more  pleasing  contemplation  than  the  prospect  of 
doubling  the  human  species,  and  augmenting,  at  the  same  time, 
their  prosperity  and  happiness.  It  Avill  in  future  ages  be  the 
glory  of  these  kingdoms  to  have  peopled  that  country,  and  to 
have  sown  there  those  seeds  of  science,  of  liberty,  of  virtue, 
and,  permit  me  to  add,  madam,  of  piety,  which  alone  constitute 
the  prosperity  of  nations  and  the  happiness  of  the  human  race. 

"  After  venturing  npon  such  high  insinuations  to  your  M;ij- 
esty,  it  seems  to  be  descending  too  far  to  ask,  as  I  do,  your 
Majesty's  royal  indulgence  to  a  person  who  is  indeed  unqualified 
for  courts,  and  who  owes  his  elevation  to  this  distinguished 
honor  of  standing  before  your  Majesty,  not  to  any  circumstan- 
ces of  illustrious  birth,  fortune,  or  abilities,  but  merely  to  an 
ardent  devotion  to  his  native  country,  and  some  little  industry 
and  perseverance  in  her  service." 

To  this  lofty  oration  the  good  little  queen  replied  in  these 
"words  only :  — 

**I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  civilities  to  me  and  my  family, 
and  am  glad  to  see  you  in  this  country." 

The  queen  then  entered  into  conversation  with  Mr.  Adams, 
and  all  the  royal  family  spoke  to  him  with  marked  friendliness. 

He  soon  found,  however,  that  all  this  civility  of  the  court 
meant  very  little.  He  was  not  able  to  induce  the  British  gov- 
ernment to  give  up  the  western  ports  nor  enter  into  just  com- 
mercial arrangements.  Several  years  elapsed  before  England 
showed  any  disposition  to  treat  with  the  new  republic  on  terms 
of  equality  and  justice. 

A  fcAv  days  after  John  Adams  had  been  presented  to  George 
ni.  and  Queen  Charlotte,  his  Avife  and  daughter  were  obliged, 
by  the  established  etiquette,  to  take  part  in  a  similar  ceremony. 

Mr.  Adams  had  an  advantage  over  almost  all  the  revolution- 


186  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGRAPHY. 

aiy  fathers  in  possessing  a  wife  who  was  fully  his  equal  in 
luiderstaudino'.  The  wives  of  Washiii2^ton  and  Franklin  were 
most  estimable  ladies ;  but  they  had  no  intellectual  tastes,  and 
would  hardly  have  held  their  ground  in  a  conversation  upon 
literature  or  science.  Mrs.  Adams,  however,  was  really  a  very 
superior  woman.  Besides  having  an  ample  share  of  Yankee 
sense  and  shrewdness,  besides  being  an  excellent  manager  and 
house-keeper,  she  was  fond  of  books,  possessed  considerable 
knowledge,  and  wrote  letters  quite  as  sprightly  and  entertaining, 
and  much  more  sensible  and  instructive,  than  those  of  Madame 
de  Sevigne  or  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  wdio  are  so  fa- 
mous for  their  letters.  When  w^e  read  her  excellent  epistles, 
^Ye  can  hardly  believe,  what  is  nevertheless  true,  that  she  was 
born  and  bred  in  a  country  parsonage  in  New  England,  and 
never  went  to  school  one  day  in  her  life.  She  owed  her  excel- 
lent education  wholly  to  her  parents  and  relations,  and  to  her 
ow^n  remarkable  quickness  of  mind. 

And  now,  in  June,  1785,  after  having  filled  with  grace  and 
dignit}^  the  various  stations  to  which  her  husband's  advancement 
had  successively  called  her,  she  was  to  represent  her  country-- 
women at  the  court  of  the  King  of  England,  where,  recently 
her  grandson,  Charles  Francis  Adams,  has  represented  the 
people  of  the  United  States,  and  baffled,  as  best  he  could, 
the  intrigues  of  domestic  treason  and  foreign  enmit}^ 

When  ladies  are  going  to  court,  the  question  of  costume 
assumes  an  awful  importance.  To  approach  the  presence  of 
majesty  becomingly,  it  is  supposed  necessary  to  dress  in  the 
most  splendid  and  costly  attire  that  taste  can  devise  and  money 
procure;  and,  what  adds  to  the  burthen,  no  lady  can  appear 
twice  at  court  in  the  same  dress.  Ladies  of  hisfh  rank  usually 
attend  in  a  blaze  of  diamonds,  and  clad  in  the  rarest  silks  and 
laces.  Mrs.  Adams,  the  daughter  of  a  country  minister  and 
the  wife  of  a  Boston  lawyer,  was  unblessed  with  diamonds  or 
laces,  and  was  resolved  not  to  shine  in  hired  jewehy  or  bor- 
rowed plumes.  Calling  to  her  aid  one  of  the  court  mantua- 
makers,  she  ordered  her  to  prepare  for  her  an  elegant  dress, 
but  just  as  devoid  of  ornament  as  the  custom  of  the  court  would 


ADAMS  AT  THE  COURT  OF  GEORGE  III.  187 

permit.     She  -u'ished  merely  to  avoid  lioing  disagreeably  con- 
spicuous cither  for  the  plainness  or  the  splendor  of  lier  attire. 

Accordingly,  on  the  morning  of  the  great  day,  she  wore  a 
dress  of  white  lutestring  (plain,  thick  silk),  profusely  trimmed 
with  white  crape,  and  festooned  with  lilac  ribbons  and  wliite 
imitation  lace.  In  those  days,  hoops  were  as  fashionable  as  they 
are  now ;  but  the  hoop  skirt,  undulating  to  the  figure,  was  not 
then  known.  ^Irs.  Adams,  like  all  the  court  dnmes  on  that 
occasion,  wore  a  veritable  hoo])^  made  of  wood,  and  placed  near 
the  bottom  of  the  skirt;  so  that  a  lady  in  full  dress  resembled 
a  round  Chinese  pavilion  ;  and  this  the  more  as  the  waist  was 
high  up  near  the  arm-pits.  A  train  three  yards  in  length, 
cauaht  up  into  a  ribbon  at  the  left  side,  added  to  the  statcliness 
of  her  appearance.  She  wore  on  her  wrists  large  lace  cuffs  and 
ruffles.  Her  hair,  elaborately  dressed  in  the  lofty  fashion  of 
the  day,  was  surmounted  by  an  extensive  lace  cap,  with  two 
lono"  lappels  hanging  behind,  and  two  white  plumes  nodding 
overhead.  Pearl  ear-rings,  a  pearl  necklace,  and  two  pearl 
pins  in  her  hair,  completed  what  she  called  her  "rigging."  If 
this  was  the  plainest  dress  allowed  at  court,  what  must  the  most 
splendid  have  been? 

When  Mrs.  Adams  had  finished  her  toilet,  and  while  her 
dausrhter  was  still  under  the  hands  of  the  hair-dresser,  she  sat 
down  and  began  a  long  letter  to  her  sister  in  America,  in  which 
she  related  the  great  events  of  the  day  down  to  the  moment  of 
their  leaving  for  the  palace,  intending  to  finish  the  story  on  her 
return.  We  may  infer  from  this  that  she  was  not  seriously 
flustered  at  the  prospect  of  an  interview  with  royalty.  Soon 
after  one  o'clock  both  ladies  were  ready.  The  young  lady,  like 
her  mother,  was  dressed  in  white  silk,  but  difFerentl}'  trimmed  ; 
and,  instead  of  a  dress  cap,  she  w^ore  upon  her  head  a  kind  of 
hat  adorned  with  three  large  feathers,  and,  instead  of  pearls, 
she  had  upon  her  hair  a  wreath  of  flowers,  and  a  bunch  of 
flowers  upon  her  bosom.  Thus  equipped,  the  two  ladies,  as 
Mrs.  Adams  thought,  presented  a  very  creditable  appearance. 

Upon  arriving  at  the  palace,  they  were  conducted  through 
several  rooms,  all  lined  with  spectators,  to  the  Queen's  Drawing 
Eoom,—  an  apartment  not  unlike,  in  size  and  general  ap])carauce, 


188  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGEAPHY. 

the  well-known  East  Koom  in  the  President's  house  at  Wash- 
in«"tou.  Here  they  found  a  large  and  brilliant  company  as- 
sembled. There  were  courtiers  and  other  noblemen  in  mag- 
nificent costume,  wearing  orders  and  ribbons,  and  glittering 
wdth  gems.  There  were  young  ladies,  daughters  of  noblemen, 
w^ho  were  to  be  presented  to  the  ro^^al  family  for  the  first  time ; 
these  were  dressed  in  white  and  flowers,  and  wore  no  jewelry. 
There  were  their  mothers  in  gorgeous  dress  and  all  ablaze  with 
jewels.  There  were  ambassadors  clad  in  the  sumptuousness  of 
continental  courts,  their  breasts  covered  with  orders  and  medals. 
There,  also,  were  John  Adams  and  his  secretary  of  legation, 
in  their  plain  court  dress,  with  their  swords  at  their  sides. 

As  the  moment  approached  for  the  entrance  of  the  voyal 
family,  the  company  arranged  themselves  along  the  sides  of  the 
room,  leaving  an  open  space  in  the  middle.  A  door  at  the  end 
of  the  apartment  opened,  and  the  king  entered,  followed  by  the 
queen  and  two  of  her  daughters,  each  attended  by  a  lady  who 
carried  her  train.  At  a  levee  in  Washington,  the  President 
takes  his  stand,  and  all  the  company  file  past  him,  each  indi- 
vidual shaking  hands  with  him ;  he,  as  a  rule,  not  speaking  to 
anyone.  Even  this  simple  ceremony  is  very  fatiguing.  Far 
more  laborious  is  the  task  of  the  King  of  England  on  public 
days.  On  this  occasion,  the  king,  on  entering  the  room,  turned 
to  the  right,  the  queen  and  princesses  to  the  left,  and  both  made 
the  complete  circuit  of  the  apartment,  holding  a  short  conver- 
sation in  a  low  to«c  with  almost  every  individual  present.  A 
master  of  ceremonies  w^ent  before  the  kinir  to  announce  the 
names  of  the  company.  We  need  hardly  say,  that  no  one  pre- 
sumes to  shake  hands  with  a  kins:. 

As  there  were  two  hundred  persons  present,  it  required  four 
mortal  hours  for  the  king  and  queen  to  get  round  the  room ; 
during  which  every  one  remained  silent  except  when  addressed 
by  king,  queen,  or  princess.  All  were  standing ;  to  sit  down 
in  the  presence  of  a  monarch  were  a  breach  of  etiquette  of  the 
most  unheard  of  atrocity;. 

At  length  the  king  approached  the  American  ladies. 

"Mrs.  Adams,"  said  the  lord  in  waitin^:. 

The   lady  thus   announced   took   oil*  the   glove  of  her   right 


ADAMS    AT    THE    CJURT    OF    GEORGE    III.    189 

hand  ;  but  the  king,  according  to  the  usage,  kissed  her  left 
check.  The  following  profound  and  interesting  conversation 
took  place  between  the  king  and  Mrs.  Adams. 
The  King.  —  "  Have  you  taken  a  walk  to-day  ?  " 
Mrs,  Adams.  —  (Half  inclined  to  tell  his  majesty  that  she 
had  been  busy  all  the  morning  getting  ready  to  go  to  court) 
"No,  sir." 

The  King.  — "  AYhy,  don't  you  love  walking?" 
Mrs.  Adams.  — "I  am  rather  indolent,  sir,  in  that  respect.'' 
The  king  then  bowed,  and  passed  on.  The  ladies  remained 
standing  two  hours  longe:^  Avhen  the  queen  and  princesses 
drew  near.  The  queen,  a  plain  little  body,  dressed  in  purplo 
and  silver,  appeared  embarrassed  when  the  name  of  Mrs. 
Adams  was  announced  to  her. 

"  Have  you  got  into  your  new  house  ?  "  she  asked  ;  "  and  pray 
how  do  3"ou  like  the  situation  of  it?" 

Mrs.  Adams  satisfied  the  queen  on  these  points,  and  the 
queen  resumed  her  progress.  The  princess  royal  followed,  who 
asked  Mrs.  Adams  w^iether  she  was  not  tired  ;  and  further  re- 
marked, that  it  was  a  very  full  drawing-room  that  day.  Next 
came  the  Princess  Augusta,  who  asked  Mrs.  Adams  whether  she 
had  ever  been  in  Ens^land  before.  "Yes."  "How  Ions:  asfo?" 
Mrs.  Adams  answered  the  question,  and  was  again  left  to  her- 
self. She  was  much  pleased  with  the  easy  and  cordial  manners 
of  these  young  ladies.  They  were  very  pretty,  she  says,  and 
were  both  dressed  in  "  black  and  silver  silk,  with  a  silver  net- 
ting upon  their  coat,  and  their  heads  full  of  diamond  pins." 
As  to  the  other  ladies  present,  she  declares  that  most  of  them 
were  "very  plain,  ill-shaped,  and  ugly."  Nor  did  she  conceive 
a  very  high  opinion  of  the  intellectual  calibre  of  his  gracious 
Majesty,  George  HI. 

In  truth,  Mrs.  Adams  was  the  farthest  possible  from  being 
dazzled  either  by  the  court  or  the  nobility  of  England.  In 
France,  she  WTote,  you  sometimes  find  people  of  the  highest 
rank  extremely  polite  and  well-bred.  If  they  are  proud,  they 
know,  at  least,  how  to  hide  it.  But  in  England  she  found 
ladies  of  title  very  arrogant,  ignorant,  shallow,  and  vulgar,  full 


190  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

of  a  ridiculous  dislike  of  "their  better-behaved  neighbors,"  tho 
French. 

Our  readers  will  relish  a  few  sentences  from  a  letter  written 
by  Mrs.  Adams  when  she  had  been  six  weeks  in  London  :  — 

"  I  would  recommend  to  this  nation  a  little  more  liberality 
and  discernment ;  their  contracted  sentiments  lead  them  to  des- 
pise all  other  nations.  ...  I  give  America  the  preference 
over  all  these  old  European  nations.  In  the  cultivation  of  the 
arts  and  improvement  in  manufactures  they  greatly  excel  us  ;  but 
we  have  native  genius,  capacity,  and  ingenuity  equal  to  all  their 
improvements,  and  much  more  general  knowledge  diffused 
among  us.  You  can  scarcely  form  an  idea  how  much  superior 
our  common  people,  as  they  are  termed,  are  to  those  of  the  same 
rank  in  this  country.  Neither  have  we  that  servility  of  man- 
ners which  the  distiuction  between  nobility  and  citizens  gives  to 
the  people  of  this  country.  We  tremble  not  either  at  the  sight 
or  name  of  majesty.  I  own  that  I  never  felt  myself  in  a  more 
contemptible  situation  than  when  I  stood  four  hours  together 
for  a  gracious  smile  from  majesty,  a  witness  to  the  anxious 
solicitude  of  those  around  me  for  the  same  mighty  boon.'' 

Mrs.  Adams,  it  appears,  was  not  a  favorite  at  the  English 
court.  The  queen  was  never  more  than  barely  civil  to  her,  and 
Mrs.  Adams  had  no  great  liking  for  the  queen.  A  dislike  is 
apt  to  be  mutual.  This  plain-spoken,  republican  lady,  whom 
rank  and  magnificence  could  not  dazzle,  who  calmly  surveyed 
and  coolly  judged  the  little  great  of  the  world  in  which  she 
lived,  was  out  of  place  at  court.  We  have  since  had  American 
ladies  at  the  palace  of  St.  James  who  were  more  welcome  there, 
because  they  were  less  mindful  of  what  was  due  to  the  princi- 
ples and  institutions  of  their  own  country. 


INAUGURATION    OF    JOHN    ADAMS.  191 


[NAUGURATION    OF   JOHN    ADAMS. 


Peesidext  Washington  had  announced  his  intention  to 
retire.  The  withdrawal  of  that  ausfust  and  commandinir  name 
threw  the  great  prize  open  to  competition,  and  all  the  fierce 
passions  of  party  were  enlisted  in  the  strife.  The  Federal 
candidates  were  Adams  and  Pinckney  ;  the  Republican,  J efler- 
son  and  Burr.  After  a  very  animated  contest,  John  Adams 
was  elected  to  the  presidency  by  a  majority  of  one  electoral 
vote;  and  Jefferson,  having  received  next  to  the  highest  num- 
ber, was  elected  vice-president.  Neither  party,  therefore,  had 
won  a  complete  triumph ;  for,  though  the  Federalists  elected 
their  president,  the  Republicans  were  partially  consoled  by 
placing  their  favorite  in  the  second  office. 

It  devolved  upon  Mr.  Adams,  as  vice-president,  sitting  in 
the  chair  of  the  Senate,  to  declare  the  result  of  the  election. 
On  that  morning  (February  8,  1797)  his  gifted  wife  wrote  to 
him  from  their  farm  in  Massachusetts :  — 

'^My  thoughts  and  my  meditations  are  with  you,  though  per- 
sonall}^  absent ;  and  my  petitions  to  Heaven  are,  that  the  things 
which  make  for  peace  may  not  be  hidden  from  your  eyes.  My 
feelings  are  not  those  of  pride  and  ostentation  upon  the  occa- 
sion. They  are  solemnized  by  a  sense  of  the  obligations,  the 
important  trusts  and  numerous  duties  connected  with  it.  That 
you  may  be  enabled  to  discharge  them  with  honor  to  yourself, 
with  justice  and  impartiality  to  your  country,  and  with  satisfoc- 
tion  to  this  great  people,  shall  be  the  daily  prayer  of  your 

"A.  A." 

If  we  may  judge  frotn  the  diary  of  Mr.  Adams,  his  vanity 


192      PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

was  a  good  deal  elated  by  his  elevation  to  the  presidency,  aa 
he  quotes  in  it  several  of  the  flattering  opinions  expressed  in 
his  hearing  upon  the  occasion,  or  to  his  friends.  Here  is  one 
short  paragraph  from  his  diary,  written  about  the  time  when 
the  result  of  the  election  was  known:  — 

"Giles  [Member  of  Congress]  says,  'the  point  is  settled. 
The  vice-president  will  be  president.  He  is,  undoubtedly, 
chosen.  The  old  man  will  make  a  good  president  too.' 
(There's  for  you.)  'But  we  shall  have  to  check  him  a  little 
now  and  then.     That  will  be  all.'     Thus  Mr.  Giles." 

There  are  several  entries  of  this  kind,  showing  that  the  presi- 
dent-elect was  fully  alive  to  the  honor  conferred  npon  him. 

A  few  days  after  announcing  the  result  of  the  election  to  the 
Senate,  Mr.  Adams  vacated  the  chair  which  he  had  filled  for 
eight  years,  and  pronounced  a  speech  of  farewell  to  the  body 
over  which  he  had  presided.  General  Washington,  meanwhile, 
was  joyfully  anticipating  his  release  from  the  anxieties  and  toils 
of  office.  On  the  day  before  his  retirement  he  wrote  to  his  old 
friend,  General  Knox  :  — 

"To  the  wearied  traveller  who  sees  a  resting-place,  and  is 
bending  his  body  to  lean  thereon,  I  now  compare  myself.  .  .  . 
Although  the  prospect  of  retirement  is  most  grateful  to  my  sonl, 
and  I  have  not  a  wish  to  mix  again  in  the  great  world,  or  to  par- 
take in  its  politics  ;  yet  I  am  not  without  my  regrets  at  parting 
with  (perhaps  never  more  to  meet)  the  few  intimates  whom  I 
lose,  and  among  these,  be  assured,  you  are  one.  .  .  .  The 
remainder  of  my  life  —  which,  in  the  course  of  nature,  cannot 
be  long  —  will  be  occupied  in  rural  amusements;  and  though  I 
shall  seclude  myself  as  much  as  possible  from  the  noisy  and 
bustling  world,  none  would  more  than  myself  be  regaled  by 
the  company  of  those  I  esteem  at  Mount  Yernon,  more  than 
twenty  miles  from  which,  after  I  arrive  there,  it  is  not  likely 
that  I  shall  ever  be."  ^ 

On  the  last  day  of  his  official  life  he  gave  a  parting  dinner 


INAUGURATION    OF    JOUN    ADAMS.  103 

to  his  associates  and  most  intimate  friends.  The  president- 
elect, the  vice-president-elect,  the  foreign  ministers,  the  bishop 
of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  other  noted  personages,  were 
present  on  this  interesting  occasion.  The  guests,  we  arc  tohl, 
were  very  merry  during  the  repast;  until,  the  cloth  being  re- 
moved, the  general  tilled  his  glass,  and  gave  the  following 
toast : — 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  —  This  is  the  last  time  I  sliall  drink 
your  health  as  a  public  man  ;  I  do  it  with  sincerity,  wishing  3011 
all  possible  happiness." 

The  mirth  of  the  company  instantly  ceased,  and  the  Avifc  of 
the  British  minister,  Mr.  Irving  records,  was  so  much  affected 
that  tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks. 

On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  March,  a  great  multitude 
gathered  about  the  hall  in  Philadelphia,  in  which  Congress  sat, 
and  the  chamber  of  the  House  of  Representatives  was  so  crowded 
that  many  members  resigned  their  chairs  to  ladies.  At  eleven 
o'clock,  Mr.  Jefferson  reached  the  Senate  chamber,  and,  having 
been  sworn  into  office,  occupied  the  chair  of  the  Senate  for  a 
moment,  and  then  marched  at  the  head  of  that  bod}'  to  the 
chamber  of  the  House,  where  places  had  been  reserved  for 
them.  A  few  minutes  after,  loud  cheers  were  heard  without, 
and  soon  the  noble  form  of  the  retiring  president  was  descried. 
Instantly  the  whole  of  the  vast  assembly  rose  to  their  feet,  and 
saluted  him  with  the  most  enthusiastic  cheers,  acclamations, 
and  the  waving  of  handkerchiefs.  On  this  last  public  appear- 
ance of  Washington,  the  warmth  of  his  welcome  seemed  to 
show  that  his  popularity  had  been  in  no  degree  lessened  by  the 
partisan  violence  to  which  he  had  been  subjected  during  the 
whole  of  his  second  term.  Washington  bowed  to  the  people 
with  his  usual  grace,  and  took  the  seat  assigned  him  on  tho 
speaker's  platform. 

Mr.  Adams  entered  next.  The  audience  rose  to  receive  him 
also,  and  cheered  him  most  cordially,  but  not  with  the  enthusi- 
asm which  had  marked  the  greeting  of  Washington.  On  this 
occasion,  if  on  no  other,  the  retiring  president  was  a  more  im- 
portant and  valued  personage  than  the  one  just  coming  into 
power.     After  the  oath  bad  been  taken,  ]\[r.  Adams  advanced 

13 


194  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

and  pronounced  his  inaugural  address,  in  which,  while  making 
the  usual  announcement  of  his  own  purposes  and  principles,  he 
pronounced  an  culogium  upon  his  predecessor, — "who,"  said 
he,  "by  a  long  course  of  great  actions,  regulated  by  prudence, 
justice,  temperance,  and  fortitude,  —  conducting  a  people  in- 
spired with  the  same  virtues,  and  animated  with  the  same 
ardent  patriotism  and  love  of  liberty,  to  independence  and 
peace,  to  increasing  wealth  and  unexampled  prosperit}^  —  has 
merited  the  gratitude  of  his  fellow-citizens,  commanded  the 
highest  praises  of  foreign  nations,  and  secured  immortijl  glory 
with  posterity." 

The  great  audience  soon  after  dispersed,  and  the  rest  of  tho 
day  was  passed  in  festivitj'.  We  have  a  highly  interesting 
account  of  the  occasion  in  a  letter  which  Mr.  Adams  wrote  tho 
next  day  to  his  wife,  which  is  characteristic  of  the  man,  and 
reveals  somethino-  both  of  his  strenolh  and  his  weakness  :  — 

"Your  dearest  friend,"  wrote  the  president,  "never  had  a 
more  trying  day  than  yesterday.  A  solemn  scene  it  was,  in- 
deed ;  and  it  was  made  more  aflecting  to  me  by  the  presence 
of  the  general,  whose  countenance  was  as  serene  and  unclouded 
as  the  day.  He  seemed  to  me  to  enjoy  a  triumph  over  me. 
Methought  I  heard  hira  say:  *Ay !  I  am  fairly  out,  and  yoi. 
fairly  in  !     See  w^hich  of  us  will  be  happiest ! ' 

"When  the  ceremony  was  over  he  came  and  made  me  a 
visit,  and  cordially  congratulated  me,  and  wished  my  adminis- 
tration might  be  happy,  successful,  and  honorable. 

"In  the  chamber  of  the  House  of  Representatives  was  a  mul- 
titude as  great  as  the  space  could  contain,  and  I  believe  scarcely 
a  dry  eye  but  Washington's.  The  sight  of  the  sun  setting  full- 
orbed,  and  another  rising,  though  less  splendid,  was  a  novelty. 
Chief-Justice  Ellsworth  administered  the  oath,  and  with  great 
energy.  Judges  Cashing,  Wilson,  and  Iredell  were  present. 
Many  ladies.  I  had  not  slept  well  the  night  before,  and  did 
not  sleep  well  the  night  after.  I  was  unwell,  and  did  not 
know  whether  I  should  get  through  or  not.  I  did,  however. 
How  the  business  was  received,  I  know  not,  only  I  have  been 
told   that   Mason,    the   treaty -publisher,   said  we   should   lose 


INAUGURATION    OF    JOHN    ADAMS.  195 

nothing  by  the  change,  for  he  never  heard  such  a  speech  in 
public  ill  his  life. 

"  All  agree  that,  taken  altogether,  it  was  the  sublimcst  thing 
ever  exhibited  in  America." 

Such  was  the  peaceful  and  auspicious  beginning  of  the  stormy 
administration  of  John  Adams. 


V 
196  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


STEPHEN  A.    DOUGLAS. 


In  the  autumn  of  the  year  1833,  at  the  town  of  Winchester, 
in  Illinois,  there  was  to  be  a  great  auction  sale  of  property, 
which  drew  to  the  place  a  large  concourse  of  people  from  the 
neighboring  country.  When  the  sale  was  about  to  begin,  the 
auctioneer  was  still  unprovided  with  a  clerk  to  enter  the  goods 
as  they  were  sold,  and  he  looked  about  for  a  person  to  perform 
that  indispensable  labor.  At  that  moment  he  noticed  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  crowd  a  pale,  short,  sickly-looking  young  man,  with 
his  coat  upon  his  arm,  apparently  about  nineteen,  a  stranger  in 
the  vicinity,  who  looked  as  though  he  might  be  able  to  write  and 
keep  accounts  well  enough  for  the  purpose.  He  hailed  him  and 
offered  him  the  place  of  clerk,  at  two  dollars  a  day. 

It  so  happened  that  this  young  man  w^as  in  very  pressing 
need  of  employment,  for  he  had  recently  arrived  in  the  State, 
and  having  walked  into  Winchester  that  morning  with  all  his 
worldly  effects  upon  his  person,  including  a  few  cents  in  his 
pocket,  —  and  but  a  few,  —  he  was  anxious  how  he  should  get 
through  the  week.  He  had  not  a  friend  within  a  thousand  miles 
of  the  spot,  and  his  entire  property  would  not  have  brought 
under  the  hammer  five  dollars. 

He  accepted  the  clerkship,  and  mounted  to  his  place  near  the 
auctioneer.  As  the  sale  went  on,  he  exhibited  an  aptitude  for 
the  duties  he  had  undertaken.  His  entries  were  made  wuth 
promptitude  and  correctness,  and  in  his  intercourse  with  the 
buyers  and  with  the  crowd  he  showed  that  mixture  of  urbanity 
and  familiarity  which  the  western  people  like.  His  repartees 
were  ready,  if  a  little  rough,  and  he  kept  everybody  in  good  hu- 
mor. The  sale  lasted  three  days,  and  when  it  was  over  he  had 
six  dollars  in  his  pocket,  and  had  gained  the  warm  good-will  of 


!■.•-      X>^>J>^ 


STEPHEN    A.     DOUGLAS.  197 

the  people  of  Winchester.  Some  of  the  leading  men,  tliinkmg 
it  would  bo  a  pity  for  so  valuable  a  youth  to  trudge  on  any  fur- 
ther in  quest  of  fortune,  and  still  a  greater  pity  for  Winchester 
to  lose  him,  bestirred  themselves  in  his  behalf,  and  secured  his 
appointment  as  teacher  to  the  winter  school,  which  he  gladly 
accepted. 

Stephen  A.  Douglas  was  the  name  of  this  popular  young  man  , 
and  thus  it  was  that  he  began  his  career  in  Illinois,  Avhich  he 
afterwards  represented  in  Congress  for  so  many  ^^ears  and  with 
so  much  distinction. 

His  father  was  a  respectable  physician,  practising  in  Rutland 
County,  Vermont,  and  there  Stephen  was  born,  in  1813.  When 
the  boy  was  two  months  old.  Dr.  Douglas,  while  holding  him 
in  his  arms,  dropped  dead  from  apoplexy,  and  his  widow, 
inheriting  little  from  her  husband,  went  to  live  upon  a  farm  of 
which  she  was  half  owner.  Douglas,  therefore,  began  life  as 
most  of  the  eminent  men  of  America  had  bco:un  it,  bv  hoein«T 
corn,  chopping  wood,  and  "doing  chores"  upon  a  farm,  attend- 
ing the  district  school  during  the  winter.  He  was  a  reading, 
ambitious  boy,  not  disposed  to  spend  his  days  in  manual  labor. 
There  seemed,  however,  no  other  destiny  in  store  for  him,  since 
his  mother  could  not  then  afford  to  continue  his  education.  At 
fifteen  he  apprenticed  himself  to  a  carpenter,  worked  at  the 
trade  two  years,  and  was  then  obliged  to  abandon  it  from  a  fail- 
ure of  his  health.  I  am  not  surprised  to  learn  that  Douglas  used 
to  say  that  the  happiest  days  of  his  life  Avere  those  spent  in  the 
carpenter's  shop.  His  speeches  show  that  he  had  a  mathemati- 
cal head  ;  and  he  had  a  decided  turn  for  constructing  and  plan- 
ning. No  doubt  there  was  an  excellent  carpenter  lost  to  the 
country  when  he  took  off  his  apron. 

From  his  seventeenth  year  to  bis  twentieth  he  was  enabled, 
by  his  mother's  aid,  to  attend  academies  and  study  law,  in  the 
States  of  Vermont  and  New  York ;  and  it  was  early  in  the  year 
1833  that  he  turned  his  steps  westward  in  search  of  fortune. 
Starting  with  a  considerable  sum  of  money  in  his  pocket,  —  a 
hundred  dollars  or  so,  —  all  went  well  with  him  until  he  reached 
Cleveland,  in  Ohio,  where  he  fell  sick,  and  was  detained  almost 
all  the  summer.     When  he  recovered  he  pushed  on,  with  his 


198  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

purse  sadly  reduced,  to  Ciucinnati,  and  so  on  to  St.  Louis,  and 
round  to  Jacksonville,  in  Illinois,  which  he  reached  with  thirty- 
seven  and  a  half  cents  in  his  pocket.  He  appears  to  have  been 
hard  to  please  in  the  matter  of  a  residence.  Seeing  no  opening 
for  a  young  man  at  Jacksonville,  he  walked  on  to  Winchester, 
sixteen  miles  distant,  and  arrived,  as  we  have  seen,  all  but  pen- 
niless, with  his  coat  on  his  arm.  There,  I  suppose,  he  must 
have  stopped  from  the  failure  of  his  supplies.  The  accident  of 
his  catching  the  eye  of  the  auctioneer  supplied  him  with  a  capi- 
tal upon  which  to  begin  his  life  there,  and  the  favor  of  the  people 
did  the  rest. 

School-master  Douglas  was  successful  with  his  school.  He 
had  forty  pupils  that  winter,  who  paid  him  three  dollars  each 
per  quarter ;  and  he  had  leisure  in  the  evenings  to  continue  his 
legal  studies,  and  on  Saturdays  to  conduct  petty  cases  before 
justices  of  the  peace.  He  did  so  well  that,  early  in  the  spring 
(March,  1834) ,  when  he  had  taught  his  school  just  three  months, 
he  gave  it  up,  opened  an  office,  and  began  the  practice  of  the 
law.  He  was  then  twenty-one  years  of  age.  There  was  some- 
thing about  this  young  lawyer  that  was  extremely  pleasing  to 
western  people,  and  he  appears  to  have  instantly  obtained  wide 
celebrity  at  the  bar ;  for  before  he  had  been  practising  p.  year, 
and  before  he  was  twenty-two  years  old,  the  legislature  of  the 
State  elected  him  attorney-general.  Next  year  he  was  himself 
a  member  of  the  legislature,  — the  youngest  man  in  either  house, 
-  and  two  years  after.  President  Van  Buren  appointed  him  to 
the  profitable  office  of  Register  of  the  Land  Office  at  Springfield, 
where  Abraham  Lincoln,  that  very  spring,  had  established  him- 
self as  a  lawyer. 

Such  rapid  and  unbroken  success  was  remarkable,  and  waa 
itself  a  cause  of  further  triumph.  The  next  event,  however,  in  his 
public  life  was  a  failure  ;  but  that  failure  did  more  for  him,  as  a 
politician,  than  any  ordinary  success  could  have  done.  Before  he 
had  attained  the  legal  age  —  twenty-five — he  was  nominated 
for  member  of  Congress  in  the  most  populous  district  of  lUi- 
RoiSp  —  nay,  the  most  populous  one  in  the  whole  country, — 
there  being  in  it  nearly  forty  thousand  voters.  Douglas,  accord 
ing  to  the  western  fashion,  mounted  the  stump,  and  spoke  daily 


STEPHEN    A.     DOUGLAS.  199 

to  multiludes  of  people.  Seldom  has  any  diytrict  been  moro 
thoroughly  canvassed,  and  seldom  have  the  minds  of  men  1jecn 
more  inflamed  with  party  zeal.  Douglas  lost  his  election  by 
five  votes ;  but  when  it  was  known  that  enough  votes  had  been 
rejected  because  his  name  was  spelled  upon  the  tickets  with 
double  s  at  the  end  of  it,  every  one  felt  that  his  failure  was  a 
triumph. 

In  1840  there  was  another  sin^nal  defeat  of  the  Democratic 
party,  which  to  him,  personally,  was  a  splendid  success.  Every 
one  who  is  old  enough  remembers  the  presidential  election  of 
that  year,  when  General  Harrison  and  Mr.  Van  Buren  were  the 
candidates,  and  log  cabins  were  built  in  every  town,  and  much 
bad  cider  was  drunk  in  them  to  the  success  of  "  Tippecanoe  and 
Tyler  too."  Every  State  in  the  Union,  except  two  or  three, 
gave  its  vote  for  General  Harrison.  Illinois  remained  true  to 
the  Democratic  party,  and  this  was  chiefly  due  to  the  wonderful 
exertions  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  then  but  twenty-seven  years 
of  age.  For  seven  months  he  gave  himself  wholly  up  to  the 
business  of  canvassing  the  State,  in  the  course  of  which  he  made 
two  hundred  and  thirteen  speeches.  It  was  the  policy  of  An- 
drew Jackson,  adopted  and  continued  by  Martin  Van  Buren, 
that  was  on  trial  during  that  summer  of  excitement.  The  young 
orator  supported  that  policy  without  reserve.  Illinois,  then  an 
agricultural  State  almost  exclusively,  had  suffered  from  the  finan- 
cial policy  of  the  government  as  much  as  the  eastern  States,  but 
it  had  recovered  faster,  and  the  young  orator  dwelt  chiefly  upon 
the  good  and  great  things  done  by  General  Jackson.  It  was 
admitted  by  friend  and  opponent  that  it  was  the  "Little  Giant'' 
that  kept  Illinois  from  joining  the  movement  that  swept  the 
other  States  irresistibly  away. 

Nor  was  it  his  free  and  easy  style  of  oratory  alone  that  held 
the  State  to  its  old  allegiance.  Douglas,  as  before  observed,  had 
a  mathematical  head.  He  was  a  great  manager  and  contriver. 
I  have  sometimes  thought  that  if  he  had  had  a  military  educa- 
tion, and  had  had  a  chance  to  develop  his  talents  by  active  ser- 
vice, he  would  have  been  a  good,  and  perhaps  a  great  general. 
He  possessed  three  qualities  of  a  general,  —  a  po^^er  of  attach- 


200  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

ing  men  to  his  person,  a  rare  organizing  faculty,  and  plenty  of 
audaf^ity. 

His  position  in  Illinois  was  now  such  as  placed  any  of  its 
political  honors  within  his  easy  reach.  After  serving  a  short 
time  as  its  secretary  of  state,  he  was  appointed  judge  of  its 
Supreme  Court,  in  which  capacity  he  served  three  years,  and  was 
then,  against  his  will,  nominated  for  rej)resentative  in  Congress. 
Elected  to  Congress  by  the  small  majority  of  four  hundred,  he 
was  re-elected  by  a  majority  of  nineteen  hundred,  again  re- 
elected by  a  majority  of  three  thousand,  and  at  about  the  same 
time,  he  was  elected  a  senator  of  the  United  States.  March 
4th,  1847,  being  then  thirty-six  years  of  age,  he  took  his  seat 
in  the  Senate,  and  continued  to  represent  Illinois  in  that  body  to 
the  close  of  his  life. 

His  career  in  Congress  presents  a  strange  mixture  of  good  and 
evil.  I  believe  that  he  was  an  incorruptible  man,  though  no  one 
ever  had  more  or  better  chances  to  gain  money  unlawfully. 
Once,  when  he  was  confined  to  his  room  by  an  abscess,  he  was 
waited  upon  by  a  millionnaire,  who  offered  to  give  him  a  deed 
for  two  and  a  half  milUons  of  acres  of  land,  now  worth  twenty 
millions  of  dollars,  if  ^e  would  merely  give  up  a  certain  docu- 
ment. 

"]  jumped  for  my  crutches,"  Douglas  used  to  say  in  telling 
the  story;  "he  ran  from  the  room,  and  I  gave  him  a  parting 
blow  upon  the  head." 

In  these  days,  when  there  is  so  much  corruption  in  politics, 
and  so  many  rings  among  politicians  and  others,  it  is  a  pleasure 
to  read  a  story  like  this. 

At  the  same  time,  he  was  a  remarkably  expert  and  successful 
manager.  If  any  man  could  get  a  bill  through  Congress,  he 
could.  He  did  not  care  much  to  shine  as  a  speaker,  and,  in- 
deed, he  did  not  excel  as  a  speaker  in  Congress.  What  he 
prided  himself  upon  was  his  sldll  and  success  in  getting  a  trouble- 
some measure  passed,  and  in  effecting  this,  he  was  quite  willing 
that  others  should  have  all  the  glory  of  openly  advocating  it. 
He  has  been  known  to  spend  two  years  in  engineering  a  bill, 
devoting  most  of  his  time  to  it,  and  yet  never  once  speaking 


STEPKEN    A.    DOUGLAS.  201 

upon  it.     This  was  the  case  with  the  long  scries  of  mcasurea 
which  resulted  in  the  Illinois  Central  Kaih'oad. 

His  faults  were  great  and  lamentable.  Like  so  many  other 
public  men  who  spend  their  winters  in  Washington,  he  lived  too 
freely  and  drank  too  much.  If  he  was  a  skilful  politician ;  he 
was  sometimes  an  unscrupulous  one,  and  supported  measures 
for  party  reasons,  which  he  ought  to  have  opposed  for  humane 
and  patriotic  ones.  Ho  said  himself  that  President  Polk  com- 
mitted the  gigantic  crime  of  "  precipitating  the  country  into  the 
Mexican  war  to  avoid  the  ruin  of  the  Democratic  part}-,"  and 
knowing  this,  he  supported  him  in  it.  His  rapid  and  uniform 
success  as  a  politician  inflamed  his  ambition,  and  he  mnde  push 
after  push  for  the  presidency,  and  finally  permitted  his  party  to 
be  divided  rather  than  postpone  his  hopes.  He  was  in  too  much 
of  a  huny  to  be  president. 

I  have  been  much  interested  lately  in  reading  his  own  account 
of  the  celebrated  scene  in  Chicago,  when  he,  who  had  been  the 
favorite  of  Illinois  for  twenty  years,  was  hooted  for  four  or  five 
hours  for  having  procured  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compro- 
mise. On  his  way  home  from  Washington  he  received  letters 
from  friends,  warning  him  that  if  he  r^]3eared  in  Chicago  ho 
would  be  killed.  He  went,  nevertheless,  and  soon  announced 
his  intention  to  address  his  fellow-citizens  in  front  of  a  well- 
known  public  hall. 

"When  the  day  arrived,"  said  he,  "the  flags  were  hung  at 
half-mast  on  the  shipping  in  the  harbor,  and  for  several  houre 
before  the  time  appointed  all  the  church-bells  in  the  city  were 
tolled,  at  which  signal  the  mob  assembled  in  a  force  of  about 
ten  thousand.  I  had  forty  or  fifty  men  who  pretended  to  be 
with  me  jprivatehj,  but  not  half  a  dozen  were  so  openly ;  they 
were  all  afraid.  At  the  appointed  hour  I  repaired  to  the  meet- 
ing and  went  upon  the  stand,  and  was  greeted  by  that  unearthly 
yell  taught  and  practised  in  the  Know-Nothing  lodges,  a  howl 
no  man  can  imitate.  I  stood  and  looked  at  the  mob  until  the 
howling  ceased.     When  they  ceased  I  commenced  by  saying  :  — 

"  *  I  appear  before  you  to-night  for  the  purpose  of  vindicating 
the  provisions  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Act.' 

"Before  the  sentence  was  ended  the  howl  began  again.     When 


202  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGRAPHY. 

it  ceased  I  would  begin,  and  as  soon  as  I  commenced  it  was  re- 
newed.    At  times  I  appealed  to  their  pride,  as  the  champions 
of  free  speech,  for  a  hearing ;  the  howling  was  renewed ;    at 
other  times  I  would  denounce  them  as  a  set  of  cowards  who 
came  armed  with  bowie-knives  and  pistols  to  put  down  one 
man, — unarmed,  —  afraid  to  hear  the  truth  spoken,  lest  there 
misfht  be  some  honest  men  amons^st  them  who  would  be  con- 
vinced.     At  one  time  I  crot  a  hearins:  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes, 
and  was  evidently  maldng  an  impression  upon  the  crowd,  when 
there  marched  in  from  the  outside  a  body  of  three  or  four  hun- 
dred men  with  red  shirt?,  dressed  as  sailors,  and  thoroughly 
armed,  w4io  moved  through  the  crowd  immediately  in  front  of 
the  stand,  and  then  peremptorily  ordered  me  to  leave  it.    I  stood 
and  looked  at  them  until  they  ceased  yelling,  and  then  denounced 
them  and  put  them  at  defiance,  and  dared  them  to  shoot  at  an 
unarmed  man.     The  pistols  began  to  fire  all  around  the  outside 
of  the  crowd,  evidently  into  the  air;    eggs  and  stones  were 
throws  at  the  stand,  several  of  them  hitting  men  that  were  near 
me,  and  for  several  hours  this  wild  confusion  and  fury  continued. 
The  wonder  is  that  amid  that  vast  excited  crowd  no  one  was  so 
far  excited  or  maddened  as  to  fire  a  ball  at  me.     The  stand  was 
crowded  with  my  enemies,  reporters,  and  newspaper  men,  and 
this  was  undoubtedly  my  best  protection.     I  stood  upon  the 
front  of  the  stand,  in  the  midst  of  that  confusion,  from  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening  until  a  quarter  past  twelve  at  night,  when 
I  suddenly  drew  my  watch  from  my  pocket  and  looked  at  it,  in 
front  of  the  crowd,  and  in  a  distinct  tone  of  voice  said,  at  an 
interval  of   silence,  'It  is  now  Sunday  morning,  —  Til  go  to 
church,  and  you  may  go  to  hell ! '  and  I  retired  amidst  the  up- 
roar, got  into  my  carriage,  and  rode  to  my  hotel.     Tlie  crowd 
followed  the  carriage,  and  came  near  throwing  it  off  the  bridge 
into  the  river  as  we  crossed  ;  they  had  seized  it  for  that  purpose, 
and  lifted  it,  but  the  driver  whipped  his  horses  violently,  and 
dashed  through  and  over  them,  and  went  to  the  Tremont  House, 
where  I  retired  to  my  room.     The  mob,  at  least  five  thousand, 
followed,  and  commenced  their  howls  in  Lake  Street,  fronting 
my  room.     The  landlord  begged  me  to  leave  the  house,  fearing 
they  would  burn  it  up,  whereupon  I  raised  my  window,  w^alked 


STEPHEN    A.     DOUCLAS.  203 

out  on  the  balcony,  took  a  good  look  at  them,  and  tv.ld  them 
that  the  day  ivould  come  ivhen  they  would  hear  me,  and  then 
bade  them  good-night." 

It  is  impossible  not  to  feel  some  admiration  for  sucli  nerve  as 
this.  The  time  did  come  when  the  people  heard  him.  Dm-in<>' 
the  last  years  of  his  life  he  regained  much  of  his  former  popu- 
larity ;  and  when,  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  rebellion  in  18G1, 
he  gave  his  hand  to  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  engaged  to  stand  by 
him  in  his  efforts  to  save  the  country,  all  his  errors  were  instant- 
ly forgiven.  But  his  days  were  numbered.  During  his  hercu- 
lean labors  of  the  previous  year  he  had  sustained  himself  by 
deep  draughts  of  wdiiskcy ;  and  his  constitution  gave  way  at  the 
very  time  when  a  new  and  nobler  career  opened  up  before  him. 

Douglas  grew  stout  as  he  advanced  in  life.  When  I  saw  him 
first,  he  w^as  standing  on  the  balcony  of  the  ^Metropolitan  Hotel 
in  New  York,  wdth  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  a  cigar  in  his  mouth, 
a  battered  soft  hat  on  his  head,  and  his  large  face  as  red  as  fire. 
He  was  the  very  picture  of  a  western  bar-room  politician.  But 
when  afterwards  I  saw  him  nicely  dressed,  in  the  Senate  Cham- 
ber, bustling  about  among  the  members,  with  his  papers  in  liis 
hand,  he  looked  like  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  business. 


204  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 


NICHOLAS   COPERNICUS 


-♦o*- 


CoPERNicus,  the  son  of  a  Prussian  surgeon,  was  born  in  1473, 
ten  years  before  the  birth  of  Luther,  and  thirteen  years  before 
the  discovery  of  America.  Great  men  appear  to  come  in  groups. 
About  the  same  time  were  born  the  man  who  revolutionized 
science,  the  man  who  reformed  religion,  the  man  who  added 
another  continent  to  the  known  world,  and  the  man  who  in- 
vented printing.  So,  in  later  times,  Watt,  the  improver  of  the 
steam-engine,  Hargrave  and  Arkwright,  the  inventors  of  the 
spinning  machinery,  began  their  experiments  almost  in  the  same 
year. 

Of  the  early  years  of  Copernicus,  we  only  know  that  he 
studied  his  father's  profession  of  medicine,  and  that  he  exhib- 
ited a  singular  love  of  mathematics,  which  led  him  naturally  to 
the  study  of  astronomy. 

Our  word,  Qnathematics,  is  derived  from  a  Greek  word  which 
signifies  knoidedge;  implying  that  the  truths  of  mathematics 
are  certainties,  while  the  results  of  other  inquiries  are  question- 
able ;  indicating,  also,  that  mathematics  is  the  basis  of  all  the 
sciences,  geography,  astronomy,  chemistry,  and  even  of  his- 
tory and  politics.  From  its  difficulty,  as  well  as  from  its  impor- 
tance, it  has  some  claim  to  be  considered  as  knowledge,  par 
excellence.  It  is  the  key  to  knowledge  and  the  test  of  knowl- 
edge ;  so  that  nothing  in  science  can  be  considered  established, 
till  it  is  demonstrated  mathematically. 

Carlyle  says  that  the  best  indication  in  a  boy  of  a  superior 
imderstanding  is  a  turn  for  mathematics.  When  a  boy  in  ad- 
dition to  a  decided  mathematical  gift,  possesses  also  a  natural 
dexterit}^  in  handling  tools,  and  an  inclination  to  observe  nature, 


NICHOLAS      COTERNICUS.  205 

there  is  ground   for  believing  that,  if  properly  aided,  he  will 
become  a  man  of  science. 

"VYe  were  led  to  these  remarks  by  observing  that  the  four  men 
of  modern  times  who  did  most  to  increase  the  sum  of  knowl- 
edge—  Copernicus,  Columbus,  Galileo,  and  Newton  —  were  all 
natural  mathematicians  and  owed  their  discoveries  directly  to 
mathematics.  All  of  them,  also,  possessed  that  manual  dexter- 
ity, and  that  love  of  observing  nature  of  which  we  have  spoken. 
They  were  alike  in  other  respects ;  all  of  them  were  endowed 
with  an  amazing  patience.  All  of  them  were  men  of  childlike 
simplicity  of  character.  All  of  them  were  good  citizens,  as  well 
as  sublime  geniuses.  All  of  them,  but  Columbus,  perhaps,  were 
even  sound  men  of  business,  —  prudent  and  successful  in  the 
management  of  their  private  affairs. 

In  the  days  of  Copernicus,  w^hen  all  books  were  in  manuscript, 
and  a  book  cost  as  much  as  a  house,  if  a  man  had  a  thirst  for 
knowledge,  he  had  to  go  to  some  one  who  possessed  knowledge, 
and  get  it  from  his  mouth.  When  Copernicus,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three,  had  graduated  as  a  doctor  of  medicine,  and  when 
he  had  learned  all  of  mathematics  and  astronomy  which  his  na- 
tive country  could  teach  him,  he  was  attracted  by  the  great 
fame  of  an  Italian  mathematician,  named  Kegiomontanus.  Fired 
w^th  enthusiasm,  he  could  not  sit  down  at  home  and  quietly 
practise  the  healing  art.  Nothing  could  content  him  but  a  pil- 
grimage to  Rome,  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  this  learned  professor; 
and,  in  order  to  have  the  means  of  living  there,  he  became  j^ro- 
ficient  in  drawing  and  painting.  The  journey  across  the  AIjds 
was  long,  perilous,  and  expensive.  He  arrived  in  safety,  how- 
ever, and  was  cordially  received  by  the  great  man,  who  freely 
imparted  to  him  all  his  stores  of  knowledge,  and  admitted  him 
to  his  friendship. 

At  Rome  he  won  all  hearts  by  the  gentleness  of  his  manners, 
and  his  ardor  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  He  was  appointed, 
ere  long,  to  a  professorship  of  mathematics,  in  which  he  ac- 
quired so  much  distinction  that  his  fame  reached  his  native 
land. 

He  had  an  uncle  who  was  bishop  of  a  German  diocese.  This 
good  man,  hearing  such  great  things  of  his  nephew,  procured 


206  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

for  him  the  office  of  canon  in  his  bishopric,  the  income  of  which 
was  sufficient  to  maintain  a  scholar,  while  the  duties  were  so 
light  as  to  leave  him  the  use  of  most  of  his  time.  Returning 
to  Germany,  he  found  his  claim  to  the. canomy  disputed,  and 
he  was  involved  in  a  most  vexatious  litigation.  But  Coperni- 
cus, like  Newton  and  like  all  strong  men,  was  tenacious  of  his 
rights,  and  he  bore  himself  in  this  affiiir  with  such  a  happy 
mixture  of  firmness  and  prudence,  that  he  conquered  all  oppo- 
sition, and  entered  into  the  peaceful  possession  of  a  place  which 
enabled  him  to  spend  his  life  in  the  study  of  nature. 

He  now  divided  his  time  into  three  equal  parts.  One  third 
he  devoted  to  his  ecclesiastical  duties  :  one  third  to  orivinsr  med- 
ical  advice  to  the  poor  gratuitously ;  and  one  third  to  study. 
Occasionally,  however,  he  was  called  upon  to  manage  the  finan- 
cial affairs  of  the  diocese,  and  to  defend  it  against  the  turbulent 
and  unscrupulous  German  nobility.  In  discharging  these  du- 
ties, he  displayed  wonderful  skill,  courage,  and  constancy.  He 
had  a  surprising  power  in  allaying  animosities,  and  in  carrying 
bis  point  against  powerful  opposition.  He  reminds  us,  in  these 
particulars,  of  our  own  good-tempered  and  sagacious  Franklin. 

His  heart,  however,  was  in  the  study  of  astronomy.  Having 
mastered  all  that  previous  astronomers  had  learned  and  conjec- 
tured, he  was  more  and  more  dissatisfied  with  their  explanations 
of  the  celestial  phenomena.  The  prevailing  opinion,  that  the 
sun  revolved  round  the  earth,  seemed  to  be  supported  by  the 
words  of  the  Bible,  which  expressly  declared  that  at  the  com- 
mand of  Joshua,  the  sun  stood  still.  This  was,  for  a  century 
or  more,  a  great  stumbling-block  in  the  path  of  science.  But, 
by  degrees,  the  grand  truth  disclosed  itself  to  the  mind  of  Co- 
pernicus, —  that  the  sun  was  the  centre  of  our  planetary  system, 
around  which  all  the  planets  moved.  At  first,  this  sublime 
truth  was  only  a  dim  conjecture  ;  and  it  was  not  till  after  more 
than  thirty  j^ears  of  patient,  laborious  calculation,  that  he  felt 
himself  in  a  position  to  reveal  his  system  to  the  world. 

But  that  was  a  great  and  dangerous  difficulty  for  a  canon  of 
the  church.  He  managed  it,  however,  w^itli  a  curious  blending 
of  boldness  and  caution.  Surrounded  with  priests  of  every 
order,  of  w^hom  he  had  been,  at  many  a  crisis,  the  valiant  and 


NICHOLAS     COPERNICUS.  207 

skilful  champion,  and  hy  whom  he  was  held  in  the  highest  es- 
teem, he  began  by  connnimicating  his  discoveries  to  them  iu 
conversation,  —  explaining  away  objections,  and  enlisting  in  be- 
half of  his  system,  their  pride  as  meml)ers  of  his  own  body. 
For  years  he  dehiyed  the  publication  of  his  work,  until  priests, 
abbots,  bishops,  and  cardinals  joined  in  urging  him  to  let  it 
appear.  Still  he  held  it  back,  fearing  to  be  caught  in  the  toils 
of  the  Inquisition.  At  length,  a  young  professor  of  mathemat- 
ics visited  Copernicus  in  the  disguise  of  a  student,  and  having 
learned  the  substance  of  his  discoveries,  published  an  account 
of  them  in  a  pamphlet.  As  this  pamphlet  excited  no  opposition 
or  controversy,  he  was  emboldened  to  publish  his  work. 

He  was  now  as  audacious  as  he  had  before  seemed  timid ;  for 
he  dedicated  his  book  to  no  less \a  personage  than  the  Pope  him- 
self. In  his  dedication,  he  sought  to  disarm  opposition  by 
anticipating  it.  "Should  there  be,"  he  said,  "any  babblers, 
who,  ignorant  of  all  mathematics,  presume  to  judge  of  these 
things  on  account  of  some  passage  of  Scripture  wrested,  to  their 
own  purpose,  and  dare  to  blame  and  cavil  at  my  work,  I  will 
not  scruple  to  hold  their  judgment  in  contempt."  He  assured 
his  Holiness  that  his  discoveries  tended  "  to  the  honor  of  reliir- 
ion,  and  to  the  prosperity  of  the  ecclesiastical  republic  over 
which  3'our  Holiness  presides." 

At  the  same  time,  he  was  known  to  be  an  opponent  of  the 
new  doctrines  of  Luther.  In  his  own  diocese,  the  abuses  which 
Luther  denounced  were  probably  not  formidable,  and  Coperni- 
cus res^arded  him  with  honest  aversion,  as  a  disturber  of  the 
peace  of  the  church.  Copernicus,  moreover,  was  a  man  consti- 
tutional!}^ opposed  to  all  violent  measures  and  language,  such  as 
Luther  delighted  in.  It  may  be,  too,  that  he  manifested  more 
zeal  against  Luther  than  he  otherwise  would,  with  a  view  to  se- 
cure the  reception  of  his  own  heresies  in  science. 

These  measures  succeeded.  His  w^ork  was  received  with  iren- 
eral  applause,  and  no  one  scented  heresy  in  it.  This  is  the  more 
remarkable  since,  a  century  after,  the  Inquisition  pursued  with 
the  utmost  severity,  those  who  merely  reasserted  what  Coper- 
nicus had  published  with  perfect  impunity.  But  times  had 
changed  in   the  sixteenth  century,  when  the  rapid  progress  of 


208  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Protestantism  had  roused  the  Inquisition  to  a  new  and  deadly 
activity.  Nevertheless,  it  was  chiefly  owing  to  the  prudent 
management  of  Copernicus  that  he  escaped  the  censures  of  the 
church. 

He  lived  just  long  enough  to  see  and  touch  his  book.  One 
of  his  pupils  had  superintended  the  printing  of  it  in  a  distant 
town,  and  sent  the  first  copy  to  the  author,  then  seventy  years 
of  age.  A  few  days  before  its  arrival  Copernicus  had  been 
stricken  with  paralysis,  which  deprived  him  of  memory  and 
almost  of  understanding.  A  few  hours  before  he  breathed  his 
last  the  volume  reached  his  house,  and  it  was  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  dying  philosopher.  He  revived  a  little,  looked  at 
the  book,  seemed  (so  the  bj^standers  thought)  to  know  what  it 
was ;  but,  after  regarding  it  a  moment,  he  relapsed  into  a  state 
of  insensibility,  and  died  a  few  hours  after.  Like  a  mother  who 
loses  her  own  life  in  giving  life  to  another,  he  died  after  only 
once  caressing  his  darling,  — the  fruit  of  a  lifetime's  travail. 

The  house  in  which  he  lived,  studied,  wrote,  and  died  is  still 
standing  at  Allenstein.  The  holes  which  he  made  in  the  wall 
of  his  chamber,  for  the  more  convenient  observation  of  the  heav- 
ens, are  still  shown,  as  well  as  the  remains  of  a  hydraulic  ma- 
chine which  he  invented  for  supplying  a  neighboring  town  with 
water.  As  a  citizen,  he  was  full  of  public  spirit  and  benevo- 
lence, discharging  the  common  duties  of  life  with  as  much 
fidelity  as  though  such  duties  were  his  only  employment.  We 
take  pleasure  in  repeating  this  fact,  because  there  are  those  who 
think  that  the  possession  of  superior  talents  exempts  a  man  from 
ordinary  obligations.  The  truly  great  have  never  thought  so. 
Men  truly  great,  have  always  been  greatly  good. 


CHAUNCEr    JEEOME.  201) 


CHAUNCEY   JEROME. 


-•o*- 


SiXTY-EiGHT  years  ago,  a  good  fiimily  clock  cost  from  seventy- 
five  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  the  cheapest  clocks 
made  were  twenty-five  dollars  each.  These  last  were  small 
clocks  hung  to  a  nail  in  the  wall,  and  were  wound  up  by  pulling 
a  string.  At  that  time  the  State  of  Connecticut  already  took 
the  lead  in  the  business  of  clock-making,  and  we  find  it  men- 
tioned, as  a  great  wonder,  that,  in  1804,  three  hundred  and  fifty 
clocks  were  made  in  Connecticut.  The  business  was  done  in  a 
very  simple  and  primitive  manner.  A  man  would  get  a  few 
clocks  finished,  then  strap  four  or  five  on  a  horse's  back,  and  go 
oflf  into  an  adjacent  county  to  sell  them,  ofiering  them  from 
door  to  door.  At  a  later  date,  some  makers  got  on  so  far  as  to 
employ  one  or  more  agents  to  travel  for  them. 

At  the  present  time,  Connecticut  makes  six  hundred  thousand 
clocks  per  annum,  and  sells  most  of  them  at  less  than  five  dol- 
lars each.  Before  the  war,  some  makers  sold  their  cheapest 
clocks,  wholesale,  at  fifty  cents  each,  their  good  clocks  at  two 
dollars,  and  their  best  at  about  four.  The  marvellous  cheap- 
ness and  excellence  of  these  time-keepers  have  spread  them  over 
the  whole  earth.  Go  where  you  will,  in  Europe,  Asia,  Africa, 
or  America,  and  you  will  be  pretty  sure  to  come  upon  Yankee 
clocks.  To  England  they  go  by  the  shipload.  Germany, 
France,  Russia,  Spain,  Italy,  all  take  large  quantities.  Many 
have  been  sent  to  China,  and  to  the  East  Indies.  At  Jerusa- 
lem, Connecticut  clocks  tick  on  many  a  shelf,  and  travellers 
have  found  them  far  up  the  Nile,  in  Guinea,  at  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  and  in  all  the  accessible  places  of  South  America. 

The   founder  of  this  branch  of  manufacture  was   Chauncey 

Jerome,  born  at  Canaan,  Connecticut,  in  1793.     He  it  was  who 

u 


210  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

invented  the  cheap  brass  clock,  as  now  made.  He  it  was  who 
invented  the  ingenious  machinery  by  the  use  of  which  those  clocks 
can  be  manufactured  for  a  tenth  of  the  sum  for  which  they  could 
be  produced  b}^  hand.  He  it  was  who  first  sent  Yankee  clocks 
to  foreign  countries.  He  it  was  who  first  made  these  clocks  at 
anything  like  the  present  rate  of  speed  or  on  anything  like  the 
present  scale.  During  the  fifty  years  that  he  has  been  in  the 
business,  he  has  superintended  the  manufacture  of  perhaps,  ten 
millions  of  clocks,  and  he  has  brought  the  machinery  for  mak- 
ing them  to  such  a  point  that  six  men  can  make  the  wheels  for 
one  thousand  clocks  in  ten  hours  ! 

Sad  is  the  lot  of  inventors,  and  sad  it  must  generally  be ;  for 
the  man  who  has  ideas  seldom  has  much  talent  for  business. 
Chauncey  Jerome,  the  creator  of  this  great  branch  of  American 
manufacture,  which  has  enriched  his  native  State,  is  now,  at  the 
age  of  seventy-three,  far  from  his  home,  without  property,  and 
working  for  wages.  I  saw  him,  the  other  day,  near  Chicago, 
with  his  honorable  gray  hairs,  and  his  still  more  honorable  white 
apron,  earning  his  living  by  faithful  labor  for  others,  after  hav- 
ing had  hundreds  of  men  in  foctories  of  his  own.  Nor  does  he 
repine  at  the  change.  He  never  repined,  except  during  a  short 
time  after  his  failure,  when  he  feared  to  be  compelled  to  eat  the 
bread  of  dependence. 

His  fiither  was  a  farmer,  blacksmith,  and  nailmaker.  At  that 
time  all  nails  were  wrought  by  hand.  The  boy  was  brought  up, 
as  most  boys  were  then,  to  work,  and  to  work  hard.  As  soon 
as  he  Avas  old  enough  to  handle  a  hoe  or  tie  up  a  bundle  of 
grain,  he  was  set  at  work  on  the  farm,  and  when  he  had  reached 
the  age  of  nine  years,  his  father  took  him  into  his  shop  to  learn 
to  make  nails.  For  two  years  he  hammered  away  steadily  in 
the  nailshop,  when  the  sudden  death  of  his  father  broke  up  the 
household,  and  sent  forth  the  forlorn  and  broken-hearted  boy  of 
eleven  to  seek  a  home  among  strangers.  As  there  was  scarcely 
any  maiuifjicturing  done  then  in  country  places,  there  was  noth- 
ing for  him  but  to  let  himself  out  to  a  farmer,  and  work  hard 
for  only  his  subsistence.  Farmers  were  poor  then,  and  the  little 
they  had  was  wrung  from  the  soil  by  constant  labor.  Incessant 
toil  for  scanty  returns  hardens  the  heart,   and  it  was  rare  at 


OHAUNCEY    JEROME.  211 

(hat  time  in  Connecticut  for  the  farmers  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  happiness  of  poor  orphans  wlio  worked  for  them.  Chaunccy, 
Jerome  has  to  this  clay  a  painful  rememl)rance  of  the  dreariness 
and  solitude  of  his  lot  as  a  farmer's  boy.  Once  in  two  weeks 
his  heartless  taskmaker  let  him  go  to  church,  and  that  was  all 
the  joy  he  had.  It  was  the  greatest  relief  to  him  to  see  so 
many  people  together,  and  have  a  little  chat  with  acquaintances. 

At  fifteen  he  was  bound  apprentice  to  a  carpenter,  and  was 
soon  able  to  do  a  man's  work  at  the  business.  Apprentices  at 
that  day  were  not  much  indulged.  Chaunccy  Jerome,  when  he 
visited  his  mother,  had  to  walk  all  night,  so  as  not  to  use  his 
master's  time,  and  he  had  sometimes  to  trudge  a  whole  sum- 
mer's day  on  foot,  with  his  tools  on  his  back,  in  order  to  get  to 
the  work  he  had  to  do.  Several  times  during  his  apprentice- 
ship he  carried  his  tools  thirty  miles  in  one  day.  There  were 
few  vehicles  then  except  farmer's  wagons. 

From  an  early  age,  this  boy  had  had  a  particular  desire  to 
learn  how  to  make  a  clock,  and  as  soon  as  his  guardian  began  to 
talk  of  aiiprenticing  him,  he  had  expressed  a  decided  prefer- 
ence for  clock-making.  His  guardian  replied  that  so  many  peo- 
ple w^ere  then  making  clocks  in  Connecticut,  that  the  whole 
country  would  soon  be  full  of  them,  and  in  two  or  three  years 
the  business  would  be  good  for  nothing.  One  man  was  then 
making  two  hundred  clocks  a  year,  and  all  the  ivise  men  about 
shook  their  heads,  and  wondered  at  his  folly  in  glutting  the 
market.     So  the  boy  was  apprenticed  to  a  carpenter. 

As  years  went  on,  the  apprentice  observed  that  no  matter  how 
juany  clocks  his  neighbors  made,  they  w^ere  all  sold.  In  1811, 
when  he  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  he  proposed  to  his  master 
an  arrangement  by  which  he  could  try  his  hand  at  this  m^^steri- 
ous  and  fascinatins:  business.  He  said  he  would  undertake  to 
clothe  himself  if  he  cculd  have  five  months  of  each  winter  to 
w^ork  on  his  own  account.  As  the  winter  was  the  dull  season, 
his  master  willingly  consented,  and  the  youth  walked  cheerfully 
away  to  Waterbury,  where  he  hired  himself  to  a  man  who  was 
makins:  clock-dials  for  the  manufacturers  of  clocks.  In  this 
humble  way  was  introduced  to  the  business  the  man  who  was  to 


212  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF     DiOGRAPHT. 

revolutionize  it,  and  who  was  destined  to  make  two  hundred 
thousand  clocks  a  year. 

After  working  a  while  at  the  dials,  he  started  with  two  others 
on  a  tour  to  New  Jersey, — they  to  sell  the  works  of  clocks, 
and  he  to  make  the  cases  for  them.  They  travelled  in  a  lumber- 
wagon,  and  carried  their  own  provisions.  By  this  time  the 
clockmakers  of  Connecticut  had  so  systematized  their  business 
that  they  could  sell  a  pretty  good  clock,  that  stood  seven  feet 
high,  for  forty  dollars.  Chauncey  Jerome  worked  fifteen  hours 
a  day  that  winter  at  case-making,  and  returned  in  the  spring  to 
his  carpenter's  shop  in  Connecticut,  with  a  little  money  in  his 
pocket.  He  well  remembers  passing  through  New  York,  and 
seeing  the  crowds  of  people  walking  rapidly  up  and  down  Chat- 
ham Street,  stopping  a  man  to  ask  him  what  was  the  matter. 
At  New  Haven,  where  he  afterwards  lived  in  a  splendid  man- 
sion, he  walked  about  the  streets  eating  bread  and  cheese,  and 
carrying  his  clothes  in  a  bundle. 

At  twenty-one,  being  his  own  master,  he  set  up  for  himself  as 
a  carpenter,  and  a  year  after  married.  So  poorly  was  his  labor 
compensated  in  the  hard  times  after  the  war,  that  for  eighty- 
seven  dollars  he  finished  the  whole  interior  of  a  three-story 
house,  including  twenty-seven  doors  and  an  oak  floor,  nothing 
being  found  for  him  but  the  timber.  The  same  work  would  now 
cost  not  far  from  a  thousand  dollars.  Such  was  his  economy, 
however,  that,  even  while  working  at  such  low  rates,  he  bought 
a  small  house  and  began  to  pay  for  it.  As  the  winter  of  1816 
approached,  being  out  of  work,  and  having  a  payment  to  make 
upon  his  house  in  the  spring,  he  was  preparing  to  go  to  Balti- 
more in  search  of  employment.  Before  setting  out,  he  heard 
that  a  man  in  a  neighboring  town  was  fitting  up  a  clock  factory, 
and  he  walked  over  to  it,  thinking  it  just  possible  he  could  get 
employment  there.  To  his  unbounded  joy,  he  succeeded,  and 
from  that  time  forward,  for  fifty  years,  he  was  never  anything  but 
a  clock-maker.  His  employer  was  Mr.  Eli  Terry,  who  had  just 
invented  the  wooden  clock  so  long  in  use  by  our  fathers,  which 
he  sold  at  the  astonishingly  low  price  of  fifteen  dollars.  This 
cheapness  so  increased  the  sale  of  clocks  that  Mr.  Terry  was 
soon  making  six  thousand  clocks  a  year. 


CIIAUNCEY    JEHOME.  213 

Mr.  Jerome,  after  Avorking  only  one  winter  in  this  flourishing 
establishment,  determined  to  begin  the  making  of  clocks  on  his 
own  account.  At  first  he  bought  the  works  ready  made,  put 
them  together,  made  the  cases,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  finished 
three  or  four,  carried  them  about  for  sale.  By  slow  degrees  his 
business  increased,  until  one  day  he  received  an  order  so  large 
that  it  almost  made  him  dizzy.  It  was  for  twelve  wooden  clocks 
at  twelve  dollars  each,  for  a  dealer  in  South  Carolina.  When 
he  finished  the  clocks,  and  was  conveying  them  to  the  appointed 
place  in  a  farmer's  wagon,  he  was  perfectly  bewildered  at  the 
idea  of  having  so  immense  a  sum  as  one  hundred  and  forty-four 
dollars  all  at  once,  and  all  his  own.  He  could  not  believe  that 
such  fi:ood  fortune  was  in  store  for  him.  He  thoui^^ht  somcthino' 
would  be  sure  to  happen  to  prevent  his  receiving  the  money. 
But  no ;  his  customer  was  ready,  and  slowly  counted  out  the 
sum  in  silver,  and  the  clockmaker  took  it  with  trembling  hands, 
and  carried  it  home,  dreading  lest  some  robbers  might  have 
heard  of  his  vast  wealth,  and  were  in  ambush  to  rob  and  murder 
him. 

His  progress  was  now  more  rapid,  and  he  soon  had  his  little 
house  paid  for.  He  sold  his  house,  and  took  his  pay  in  clock- 
works. He  bought  some  land,  and  paid  for  it  in  clocks.  He 
began  to  buy  timber  in  large  quantities,  and  instead  of  selling 
the  clocks  from  house  to  house  himself,  sold  them  to  peddlers 
and  to  storekeepers.  Soon  he  invented  labor-saving  machinery, 
got  up  new  and  elegant  patterns  for  cases,  took  in  partners,  and 
thus  rapidly  extended  his  business.  He  began,  ere  long,  to  send 
consio'uments  of  wooden  clocks  to  the  southern  cities,  and  this 
it  was  that  led  to  the  discarding  of  wood  for  the  works  of  Yan- 
kee clocks.  On  the  voyage  the  wood  would  swell  sometimes, 
and  spoil  them.  One  night,  when  Jerome  was  depressed  from 
a  temporary  lull  in  the  business,  and  much  troubled  with  this 
new  difficulty,  the  idea  darted  into  his  mind  that  possibly  a 
clock  could  be  made  of  brass  as  cheaply  as  of  wood.  He  sprang 
out  of  bed  and  fell  to  ciphering.  He  found  it  could  be  done. 
He  did  it. 

This  discovery,  and  the  wonderfully  ingenious  machinery 
v^hich  he  invented  to  carrj^  it  out,  are  the  basis  of  the  clock 


214:      PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

business  of  the  United  States,  as  it  exists  to-day.  Never  have  I 
seen  more  original  and  startling  mechanical  effects  than  are  pro- 
duced by  Jerome's  clock-making  machinery.  Think  of  one  man 
and  one  hoy  sawing  veneers  enough  in  one  day  for  three  hun- 
dred clock  cases.  Think  of  six  men  makins^  brass  wheels  enouorh 
in  a  day  for  one  thousand  clocks.  Think  of  a  factory  of  twenty- 
five  persons  producing  two  thousand  clocks  a  week.  Think 
of  a  clock  being  made  for  forty  cents.  All  this  is  chiefly  due  to 
the  patience  and  genius  of  Chauncey  Jerome. 

Well,  he  made  a  large  fortune  —  several  large  fortunes  —  and 
had  retired  from  active  business,  though  still  being  at  the  head 
of  the  Jerome  Clockmaking  Company  of  New  Haven.  The 
management  of  this  company  was  left  ^vholly  and  absolutely  to 
partners,  and  they,  by  a  course  of  injudicious  management, 
brought  the  company  into  an  embarrassed  financial  condition. 
Their  attempts  to  escape  from  it  only  sunk  them  deeper  in  diffi- 
culty. In  1860  the  well-known  bankruptcy  occurred  which 
reduced  Chauncey  Jerome  to  beggary,  and  drove  him  from  his 
princely  abode  to  a  hired  cottage,  the  rent  of  which  he  could 
scarcely  pay.  So  guilelessly  honest  is  he  by  nature,  that  he  did 
not  save  from  the  w^reck  money  enough  to  maintain  his  family 
during  the  next  winter.  The  catastrophe  came  upon  him  like  a 
clap  of  thunder  out  of  a  clear  sky.  He  did  not  know  the  com- 
pany was  in  trouble,  and  during  all  its  struggles  he  never  once 
saw  the  man  who  was  endorsing  its  paper. 

Mr.  Jerome,  however,  has  found  an  honorable  asylum  in  his 
old  age.  The  new  Clock  Company  of  Chicago  has  engaged  him 
at  a  liberal  salary  to  superintend  its  manufactory,  and  there  he 
now  is,  busy  in  supplying  the  great  North-west  w^ith  his  own 
clocks.  He  is  now  seventy-eight  years  of  age.  Few  living  men 
have  been  more  useful  to  their  countrymen  than  he,  and  no  old 
man  is  worthier  of  our  respect. 


CHARLES    GOODYEAR.  21o 


CHARLES     GOODYEAR. 


One  clay,  in  the  j^ear  1833,  a  Philadelphia  merchant,  who 
was  stopping  a  few  days  in  New  York  on  business,  chanced  to 
pass  the  store  of  the  Roxbury  India  Hubber  Company,  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  city.  Seeing  the  words  India  Iluhher  on  the 
sign,  reminded  him  of  the  life-preservers  of  that  material, 
which  had  been  much  spoken  of  in  the  newspapers  as  a  new 
article  of  great  utility.  Being  a  natural  lover  of  improvements, 
he  went  into  the  store  to  examine  them,  and  the  result  was  that 
he  bought  one  and  took  it  home  w^ith  him  to  Philadelphia. 

The  name  of  this  inquisitive  person  w^as  Charles  Goodj'ear, 
of  the  firm  of  A.  Goodyear  and  Sons,  hardware  merchants. 
Prosperous  merchants  they  had  been  for  several  years,  with  a 
factory  in  Connecticut,  their  native  State,  and  an  extensive  es- 
tablishment in  Philadelphia  for  the  sale  of  their  products  ;  but, 
at  this  time,  they  w^ere  involved  in  debt  and  difficulty.  Having 
failed  in  1830,  they  had  compromised  with  their  creditors,  and 
were  striving  bravely  to  extricate  themselves.  But  all  their 
efforts  proved  fruitless,  and  they  were  compelled,  at  length,  to 
give  up  all  they  possessed,  and  withdraw  from  business,  still 
burthened  with  heavy  obligations.  This  calamity  occurred  soon 
after  the  time  when  Charles  Goodyear  made  his  purchase  of  the 
India  Rubber  life-preserver,  and  when  he  was  already  thinking 
of  turning  his  attention  to  some  other  branch  of  business. 

On  examining  his  life-preserver,  an  improvement  in  the  tube 
by  which  it  was  inflated  occurred  to  him;  and,  the  next  time  he 
was  in  New  York,  he  showed  it  to  the  agent  of  the  Roxbury 
Company,  and  ofiered  to  sell  the  improvement.  The  agent 
acknowledged  the  value  of  the  idea,  and  proceeded  to  lay  open 
to  the  inventor  the  state  of  the  India  Rubber  manufiicture  in  the 


21G  PEOPLE'S    BOOK     OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

United  States,  and  the  condition  of  the  groat  Koxbury  Com- 
pany, in  order  to  account  for  the  improbability  of  the  Compa- 
ny's buying  the  tube  invention. 

There  had  been  an  India  Rubber  mania  in  New  England,  like 
that  of  petroleum  during  the  late  war ;  of  which  mania  this 
Roxbury  Company,  with  a  capital  of  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  was  the  most  remarkable  result.  The  first  pair  of  India 
Rubber  shoes  ever  seen  in  the  United  States  Avere  brought  here, 
in  1820.  They  were  gilt,  and  were  pointed  like  the  slippers  of 
the  Chinese  mandarin.  This  pair,  which  were  handed  about  as 
a  curiosity,  were  followed,  in  1823,  by  an  importation  of  five 
hundred  pairs,  which,  rough  and  ill-shaped  as  they  were,  were 
eagerly  bought  at  high  prices ;  and,  from  that  time  onward, 
there  was  a  regular  importation  of  India  Rubber  shoes  from 
South  America,  of  five  thousand  pairs  per  annum.  It  was  the 
high  prices  which  these  shoes  commanded,  as  compared  with 
the  extreme  cheapness  of  the  raw  material,  that  caused  the  ex- 
pectation of  such  enormous  profits  from  their  manufacture  at 
home.  Hence  the  rage  of  1832  for  India  Rubber  stocks. 
Hence  the  formation  of  the  Roxbury  Company,  and  th6  extrav- 
agant expectations  of  its  stockholders. 

The  agent  of  that  company,  however,  had  but  a  sorrj^  tale  to 
tell  Charles  Goodyear  in  1833.  He  told  him  that  the  material 
had  presented  unexpected  difficulties.  Shoes  made  in  winter 
melted  as  soon  as  the  summer  came.  When  exposed  to  the  cold, 
they  grew  as  hard  as  stone  ;  but  a  temperature  of  one  hundred 
degrees  reduced  a  case  of  shoes  to  a  mass  of  gum.  And,  what 
was  worse,  no  one  could  tell  of  the  winter-made  shoes,  whether 
they  would  stand  the  summer  heats  or  not.  The  Company 
feared  to  manufacture  a  large  quantity,  since  the  first  hot  week 
in  June  would  melt  the  product  of  eight  months'  labor,  as 
readily  as  a  single  pair  of  shoes.  In  short,  the  agent  said,  un- 
less a  way  could  be  discovered  of  hardening  or  curing  this 
singular  substance,  and  that  very  soon,  the  Roxbury  Company 
would  be  obliged  to  wind  up  its  afiairs  from  the  exhaustion,  at 
once,  of  its  patience  and  its  capital.  This  catastrophe,  in  fact, 
soon  after  happened,  to  the  ruin  of  a  large  number  of  the  people 
of  Massachusetts.     With  it  died  all  interest  in  the  home  mauu- 


CHARLES    GOODYEAR.  217 

fiicliirc  of    India   Rubber,   except    in    the     mind    of    a   sin^^lo 
individual  —  Cliarlcs  Goodyear. 

On  his  return  to  Philadelphia  he  began  to  study  and  experi- 
ment with  India  Rubber.  He  bought  a  few  pounds.  He  melted 
it,  kneaded  it,  rolled  it,  read  about  it,  talked  of  it  with  profes- 
sors and  plwsicians,  pondered  it  by  night  and  day.  He  even 
made  a  few  pairs  of  shoes,  which  were  very  pretty  to  look  at; 
but  they  would  stick  together  as  soon  as  they  were  brought  into 
a  warm  room.  He  mixed  magnesia,  alcohol,  turpentine,  with 
the  melted  gum,  and  tried  in  every  way  he  could  conceive  to 
render  it  a  manaofcable  substance.  Still  baffled,  he  bouirht  a 
quantity  of  the  sap  as  it  comes  from  the  India  Rubber  tree,  and 
experimented  with  that.  Coming  to  his  shop  one  morning,  an 
Irishman  in  his  employ  met  him  at  the  door  in  high  spirits,  say- 
ing that  he  had  found  out  the  great  secret  and  beaten  a  Yankee, 
pointing  to  his  trousers,  which  he  had  dipped  into  one  of  the 
barrels  of  sap.  They  were  so  nicely  coated  over  with  the  glis- 
tening gum,  that  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Goodyear  thought  that 
perhaps  Jerry  had  blundered  into  the  secret.  The  man  sat 
down  to  his  work  on  the  top  of  a  cask.  On  attempting  to  rise, 
a  few  minutes  after,  he  found  himself  glued  to  his  seat,  and  his 
legs  stuck  tight  together.  He  had  to  be  cut  out  of  his  trousers, 
amid  the  laughter  of  the  bystanders.  Another  time  Mr.  Good- 
year thought  he  had  succeeded  in  curing  India  Rubber,  by  mix- 
ing it  with  quicklime.  He  made  some  specimens  of  India  Rubber 
cloth,  which  had  an  elegant  appearance  ;  but,  after  enjoying  his 
triumph  a  few  days,  he  found,  to  his  dismay,  that  the  weakest 
acid,  such  as  apple-juice,  orange-juice,  or  vinegar  and  water, 
dropped  upon  his  cloth,  dissolved  it  into  soft  gum  again. 

But  Charles  Goodyear  was  a  man  who,  having  undertaken 
a  thing,  could  not  give  it  up.  He  struggled  on  for  tive  years,  — 
in  debt,  with  a  family,  and  exposed  to  the  derision  or  reproaches 
of  his  friends.  Several  times  he  was  in  the  debtor's  prison. 
He  sold  his  effects,  he  pawned  his  trinkets,  he  borrowed  from 
his  acquaintances,  he  reduced  himself  and  his  young  family  to 
the  severest  straits.  When  he  could  no  longer  buy  wood  to 
melt  his  rubber  with,  his  children  used  to  go  out  into  the  fields 
and  pick  up  sticks  for  the  purpose.     Always  supposing  himself 


218  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

to  be  on  the  point  of  succeeding,  he  thought  the  quickest  way 
to  get  his  family  out  of  their  misery  was  to  stick  to  India  Kub- 
ber. 

In  the  fifth  year  of  his  investigations  a  glorious  success 
rewarded  him.  He  made  one  of  the  simplest,  and  yet  one  of 
the  most  useful,  discoveries  which  has  ever  been  made  in  the 
United  States.  It  was  this :  Take  a  piece  of  common,  sticky 
India  Kubber,  sprinkle  upon  it  powdered  sulphur,  put  it  into  an 
oven  heated  to  275  degrees,  bake  it  a  short  time,  and  it  comes 
out  a  new  material,  which  has  all  the  good  properties  of  India 
Rubber,  without  that  liability  to  harden  in  cold  weather  and 
dissolve  in  warm,  which  had  hitherto  bafiled  all  his  endeavors  to 
turn  it  to  useful  account.  It  was  found,  by  subsequent  experi- 
ments, that,  by  varying  the  proportions  and  the  heat,  he  could 
make  it  as  soft  or  as  hard  as  he  chose.  He  could  make  the  soft- 
est cloth  or  the  hardest  ivory.  He  could  make  it  as  flexible  as 
whalebone  or  as  rigid  as  flint.  In  short,  he  had  produced  not 
merely  a  new  material,  but  a  new  class  of  materials,  applicable 
to  a  thousand  uses. 

Overjoyed  with  his  success,  he  thought  his  troubles  were  over. 
Never  was  a  poor  inventor  more  mistaken.  By  this  time,  he 
had  utterly  tired  out  all  his  friends  and  acquaintances.  He  was 
thought  to  be  India  Rubber  mad.  As  soon  as  he  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak  of  India  Rubber,  his  friends  manifested  such 
signs  of  repugnance,  pity,  or  incredulity,  that  he  Avas  abashed 
and  ashamed  to  continue.  As  to  mere  acquaintances,  they 
laughed  at  him.  One  of  them,  being  asked  one  day  how  Mr. 
Goodyear  could  be  recognized  in  the  street,  replied  :  — 

"If  you  see  a  man  with  an  India  Rubber  cap,  an  India  Rub- 
ber coat,  India  Rubber  shoes,  and  an  India  Rubber  jDurse  in  his 
pocket,  with  not  a  cent  in  it,  that  is  Charles  Goodyear." 

He  used  to  say,  in  after  times,  that  two  years  passed,  aftei 
he  had  made  his  discovery,  before  he  could  get  one  man  to  be- 
lieve him.  During  that  period  he  endured  everything  that  a 
man  can  endure  and  live.  Yevy  often  he  knew  not  how  to  get 
the  next  loaf  for  his  children.  Very  often,  in  the  coldest  day 
of  a  New  England  winter,  he  had  neither  food  nor  fire.  Onco 
he  had  a  dead  child  in  his  house,  and  no  means  with  which  to 


CHARLES    GOODYEAR.  219 

bury  it.  He  was  denounced  as  a  man  who  neglected  his  family 
to  pursue  a  ridiculous  idea,  which  could  never  be  of  the  slight- 
est use  to  any  one. 

In  New  York,  at  length,  he  found  a  man  who  had  faith  enough 
in  his  discovery  to  enter  into  partnership  with  him  for  bringing 
the  new  material  before  the  public.  From  that  time  his  chil- 
dren, indeed,  had  enough  to  eat;  but  it  was  three  or  four  years 
more  before  his  patent  began  to  bring  him  in  any  considerable 
return. 

Any  one  but  Charles  Goodyear  would  then  have  stopped  and 
quietly  enjo3'ed  the  fruit  of  his  labors.  But  lie^  we  repeat,  was 
an  inventor.  He  saw  that  the  application  of  India  Kubber  to 
the  arts  was  still  in  its  infancy,  and  he  felt  it  a  kind  of  religious 
duty  to  go  on  developing  his  discovery.  Therefore,  he  never 
entered  into  the  manufacture  of  India  Bubber  goods,  but,  sell- 
ing rights  to  manufacture  for  a  low  per  centage  on  the  sales,  he 
spent  all  the  rest  of  his  life  in  applying  the  varied  forms  of  his 
material  to  new  uses.  Like  all  other  inventors,  he  was  tor- 
mented with  litigation.  His  right  to  his  discovery  was  unques- 
tionable, yet  men  there  were  who  infringed  that  right;  and, 
thouijh  the  courts  sustained  him,  the  defence  of  his  rii>hts  cost 
him  enormous  sums. 

The  present  condition  of  the  India  Rubber  manufacture  in  the 
United  States  and  Europe  testifies  to  the  ingenuity  and  devotion 
of  this  remarkable  man.  We  are  informed,  by  a  gentleman  en- 
gaged in  the  business,  that  a  single  firm  in  the  city  of  New  York 
sells  two  million  dollars'  worth  of  India  Rubber  bcltino:  and  en- 
gine-packing  ever^^  year ;  and  this  firm  is  only  one  out  of  forty 
engaged  in  the  Rubber  business  in  this  city  alone.  By  Good- 
year's  process  one  girl  can  make  twenty  pairs  of  India  Rubber 
shoes  in  a  day,  —  so  easily  is  the  material  worked,  —  and  yet  the 
various  branches  of  the  trade  give  employment  to  fifty  thousand 
persons  in  the  United  States.  Take  one  item,  —  the  new  clothes- 
w^ringer  made  of  India  Rubber  rollers,  invented  three  years  ago. 
The  companies  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of  this  article  are 
now  selling  the  astonishing^  number  of  two  hundred  thousand 
per  annum  in  this  country ;  and,  recently,  a  whole  shipload 
was    sent   to  England.      During    the    late  war,    more    than  a 


220  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

million  blankets  of  India  Eubber  were  supplied  to  the  armies. 
Charles  Goodyear  died  in  July,  1860,  in  the  sixty -first  year 
of  his  age.  He  literally  wore  out  his  constitution  in  his  zeal 
for  developing  his  discovery.  Though  he  had  been  for  many 
years  a  sufferer  from  disease,  his  death  was  somewhat  sudden 
and  unexpected.  Almost  to  his  last  day  he  was  still  employed 
in  the  work  to  which  his  life  was  devoted.  It  is  not  without  a 
pang'  that  we  record,  that,  after  all  his  toils  and  successes,  he 
died  insolvent,  leaving  his  devoted  and  gifted  wife,  the  faithful 
helpmeet  and  solace  of  his  later  years,  and  a  family  of  six  chil- 
dren, the  youngest  but  two  months  old,  without  provision. 
Such  is  but  the  common  fate  of  inventors.  That  verv  zeal  and 
enthusiasm,  which  alone  enable  them  to  carry  out  their  ideas, 
deprives  them  of  the  substantial  reward  which  other  men  win 
by  using  their  discoveries. 


JOHN    A.    SUTTER.  221 


JOHN  A.   SUTTER, 

AND   THE   DISCOVERY   OF   GOLD  IN   CALIFORNIA. 


People  often  say  what  they  would  do  if  they  should  f  nd  a 
gold  mine ;  evidently  supposing  that  a  man  who  finds  a  gold 
mine  is  made  rich  of  course.  But  this,  it  appears,  is  not  al- 
ways the  case.  Neither  the  man  who  discovered  gold  in  Cali- 
fornia, nor  the  man  upon  whose  land  it  was  discovered,  have 
been  benefited  by  it.  On  the  contrary,  the  discovery  ruined 
them  both,  and  both  are  to-day  poor  men. 

John  A.  Sutter,  the  son  of  Swiss  parents,  was  born  in  1803, 
at  Baden,  where  he  was  reared  and  expensively  educated.  In 
early  life  he  obtained  a  commission  in  the  French  army,  in 
which  he  rose  to  the  rank  of  captain,  and  remained  in  the  ser- 
vice until  he  was  thirty  ^^ears  of  age.  A  number  of  his  Swiss 
friends  and  relations,  in  1833,  formed  a  company  with  a  view  to 
emigration  to  some  part  of  the  United  States  suited  to  wine- 
growing ;  and  they  selected  Captain  Sutter  to  go  to  America 
and  choose  a  location  for  the  colony.  He  arrived  in  New  York, 
upon  this  errand,  in  July,  1834. 

Proceeding  to  the  State  of  Missouri,  he  chose  a  place  for  the 
colony  in  a  region  unpopulated,  if,  indeed,  it  had  been  explored, 
and  he  was  making  preparations  for  the  coming  of  his  friends, 
when  a  sad  mishap  frustrated  the  enterprise.  Captain  Sutter 
brought  with  him  a  considerable  capital,  with  which  he  was  to 
begin  a  settlement,  erect  buildings,  and  get  a  piece  of  land 
under  cultivation.  Unfortunately,  a  steamboat,  loaded  with 
implements  and  stores,  timber  and  other  materials,  for  the  pro- 
jected establishment,  was  sunk  in  the  Mississippi  river,  and 
proved  a  total  loss.  Being  thus  compelled  to  postpone  the 
scheme  of  colonization,  and  being  of  an  adventurous  turn  of 
mind,  he  made  a  tour  in  New  Mexico.     There  he  met  somo 


222  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

hunters  and  trappers  who  had  visited  Upper  California,  and 
they  gave  him  such  a  captivating  description  of  that  beautiful 
and  romantic  countrj^,  that  he  determined  to  go  thither  himself. 

In  March,  1838,  he  joined  a  party  of  the  American  Fur  Com- 
pany, and  travelled  with  them  to  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  and 
thence,  with  six  mounted  men,  he  crossed  the  range  and  made 
his  way  to  Fort  Vancouver,  in  Oregon,  As  there  was  no  mode 
of  getting  down  the  coast  to  California,  he  took  passage  in  a 
vessel  bound  to  the  Sandwich  Islands.  At  Honolulu  he  waited 
five  months,  during  which  not  a  single  vessel  sailed  for  San 
Francisco.  He  then  accepted  a  situation  as  supercargo  in  a 
vessel  which  was  to  land  stores  at  Sitka,  an  island  which  forms 
part  of  what  was  till  recently  Russian  America,  but  which,  I 
presume,  will  soon  rejoice  in  another  name.  From  Sitka  the 
vessel  proceeded  along  the  coast,  and  was  driven  into  the  port 
of  San  Francisco  in  distress. 

Captain  Sutter  announced  his  intention  to  remain  in  the 
country  to  the  Mexican  governor,  from  whom  he  obtained  a 
grant  of  land.  After  many  adventures  and  tantalizing  delays, 
he  landed  a  schooner-load  of  efiects  on  the  Sacramento  river, 
near  the  site  of  the  present  city  of  Sacramento,  and  there  began 
to  build  the  stockade  afterwards  so  famous  as  Sutter's  Fort. 
He  was  then  thirty-six  years  of  age,  and  had  been  in  America 
five  years.  His  colony  consisted  of  six  white  men,  adventurers 
from  various  parts  of  the  world,  and  eight  Indians.  In  the  fol- 
lowinof  year  eio^ht  more  white  men  stras^srled  in  and  ioined  him, 
so  that  the  population  of  the  district  consisted  of  fourteen  white 
men,  eight  friendly  Indians,  and  some  hundreds  of  roving  sav- 
ages.    Every  season,  however,  brought  in  a  few  recruits. 

The  colon}^  prospered.  Besides  cultivating  the  soil,  Captain 
Sutter  and  his  comrades  sent  hides  to  San  Francisco,  for  exporta- 
tion to  the  United  States,  and  the  port  became  a  depot  of  furs 
purchased  from  the  wandering  trappers  and  hunters.  The  land 
granted  to  Captain  Sutter  consisted  of  eleven  square  leagues, 
and  he  named  his  settlement  New  Helvetia. 

Many  a  w^orn  and  starving  band  of  emigrants  from  the  United 
States  were  relieved  and  entertained  at  Captain  Sutter's.  One 
example  of  this  hospitality  tells  a  terrible  story  of  the  sufferings 


JOHN    A.     SUTTER.  2^^ 


-!-•> 


endured  at  that  day  in  crossing  the  plains.  A  man  came  in  one 
morning  and  reported  that  his  comrades  were  some  miles  dis- 
tant in  the  desert  country,  dying  of  starvation.  Sutter  instantly 
loaded  a  few  of  his  best  mules  with  provisions,  and  despatched 
them  to  the  relief  of  the  perishing  band,  under  the  guidance  of 
two  Indians.  The  starving  party  was  so  large  tliat  the  supplies 
were  insufficient.  After  consuming  the  provisions,  they  killed 
the  mules  and  ate  them ;  then  they  killed  the  two  Indians  and 
devoured  them  ;  and  even  after  that,  when  some  of  their  own 
number  fell  exhausted,  they  ate  them.  This  is  almost  too  much 
for  belief.  I  relate  it  upon  the  authority  of  Mr.  Edward  E. 
Dunbar,  President  of  the  Travellers'  Club  of  this  city,  who  had 
the  story  from  Captain  Sutter  himself,  and  who  has  recently 
published  a  work  upon  the  discovery  of  gold  in  California,  from 
which  most  of  these  particulars  are  derived. 

The  war  with  Mexico  ended  in  our  acquisition  of  California. 
As  early  as  March,  1847,  the  flag  of  the  United  States  floated 
over  San  Francisco,  and  troops  of  the  United  States  garrisoned 
the  town. 

In  1848  Captain  Sutter  was  the  owner  of  eleven  leagues  of 
land,  upon  which  he  had  erected  various  costly  improvements. 
He  had  a  flour-mill,  supplied  by  a  mill-race  three  miles  long, 
which  had  cost  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  He  had  expended 
ten  thousand  dollars  in  the  erection  of  a  saw-mill.  One  thou- 
sand acres  of  his  land  were  verdant  with  young  wheat.  He 
owned  eight  thousand  cattle,  two  thousand  horses  and  mules, 
two  thousand  sheep,  and  one  thousand  hogs.  Besides  possess- 
ing all  this  property,  he  had  been  appointed  alcalde  of  the  dis- 
trict by  Commodore  Stockton,  and  Indian  agent  by  General 
Kearney.  He  was  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed,  and  was  held 
in  high  respect,  both  by  his  colonists  and  by  the  United  States 
officers  stationed  in  the  Territory.  This  was  his  position  on  the 
day  gold  was  discovered  on  his  land. 

One  of  the  men  in  his  emplo3'ment  was  James  "\V.  jNIarshall, 
a  native  of  New  Jersey,  who,  after  long  wanderings  on  the 
Pacific  coast,  had  enlisted  under  Colonel  Fremont,  in  the 
California  battalion,  from  which,  at  the  close  of  the  Avar,  he 
was  honorably  discharged.     As  he  was  an  excellent  mechanic, 


224      PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

he  obtained  employment  from  Captain  Sutter.  It  was  lie  who 
superintended  the  building  of  the  saw-mill  just  mentioned, 
which  was  situated  at  a  point  forty  miles  east  of  Sutter's  fort. 
In  January,  1848,  the  mill  being  nearly  complete,  they  had 
begun  to  saw  timber,  Marshall  still  being  the  superintendent. 

In  the  evening  of  February  2,  1848,  James  Marshall  sud- 
denly rode  into  the  fort,  —  his  horse  foaming,  and  both  horse 
and  rider  spattered  all  over  with  mud.  The  man  was  laboring 
under  wild  excitement.  Meeting  Captain  Sutter,  he  asked  to 
be  conducted  to  a  room  where  they  could  converse  alone.  The 
astonished  Sutter  complied  with  his  desire,  and  they  entered  a 
secluded  apartment.  Marshall  closed  the  door,  and  asked 
Captain  Sutter  if  he  was  certain  they  were  safe  from  intrusion, 
and  be2"2:ed  him  to  lock  the  door.  The  honest  Sutter  beofau  to 
think  the  man  was  mad,  and  was  a  little  alarmed  at  the  idea  of 
being  locked  in  with  a  maniac.  He  assured  Marshall  that  they 
were  safe  from  interruption.  Satisfied,  at  length,  upon  this 
point,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  pouch,  from  which  he  poured 
upon  the  table  half  a  thimble-full  of  yellow  grains  of  metal, 
with  the  exclamation  that  he  thought  they  were  gold. 

"  Where  did  3^ou  get  it  ?  "  asked  Captain  Sutter. 

Marshall  replied,  that,  early  that  morning,  the  water  being 
shut  off  from  the  mill-race,  as  usual,  he  noticed,  in  passing 
along,  shining  particles  scattered  about  on  the  bottom.  He 
picked  up  several,  and,  finding  them  to  be  metal,  the  thought 
had  burst  upon  his  mind  that  they  might  be  gold.  Having 
gathered  about  an  ounce  of  them,  he  had  mounted  his  horse 
and  ridden  forty  miles  to  impart  the  momentous  secret  to  his 
employer,  and  bring  the  yellow  substance  to  some  scientific 
test. 

Captain  Sutter  was  at  first  disposed  to  laugh  at  his  excited 
friend.  Among  his  stores,  however,  he  happened  to  have  a 
bottle  of  aqua-fortis,  and  the  action  of  this  powerful  acid  upon 
the  yellow  particles  at  once  proved  them  to  be  pure  gold  ! 

The  excitement  of  this  moment  can  be  imas^incd.  Marshall 
proposed  that  Captain  Sutter  should  immediately  mount  and 
ride  back  with  him  to  the  saw-mill ;  but,  as  it  was  raining 
hard,  the  night  dark,  and  the  mill  forty  miles  distant,  Captain 


JOHN    A.     SUTTER.  22.J 

Sutter  preferred  to  wait  till  daylight.  Marshall,  however 
could  not  be  restrained.  He  set  out  immediately  on  his  return. 
At  the  dawn  of  day,  Sutter  started ;  and,  when  he  was  within 
ten  miles  of  the  saw-mill,  he  saw  before  him,  coming  out  of 
some  bushes,  a  dark  object  which  he  took  to  be  a  grisly  bear, 
but  which  proved  to  be  James  jNIarshall ! 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  asked  Sutter. 

jMarshall  replied  that  he  had  been  to  the  saw-mill,  but  was  so 
impatient  to  see  the  captain,  that  he  had  walked  back  ten  miles 
to  meet  him.  They  ^vent  on  together  to  the  mill,  and  found  all 
the  laborers  picking  up  the  shining  particles  from  the  bottom 
of  the  race.  Captain  Sutter  did  not  relish  the  prospect.  lie 
soon  satisfied  himself  that  gold,  in  considerable  quantities, 
existed  in  the  neighborhood,  but  as  the  harvest  was  coming  on, 
and  some  of  his  improvements  were  unfinished,  he  feared  lest 
his  men  should  leave  him  in  the  lurch,  and  all  go  to  gold- 
digging.  Calling  his  men  around  him,  he  explained  his  situa- 
tion, and  they  agreed  to  keep  the  matter  a  secret  for  six  weeks, 
when  the  harvest  would  be  gathered.  But  such  a  secret  cannot 
be  kept.  A  teamster,  going  from  the  mill  to  the  fort,  and 
wishing  something  to  drink,  went  to  a  store  and  asked  for  a 
bottle  of  whiskey.  As  the  teamster's  credit  was  not  high  in  the 
country,  the  store-keeper  intimated  that  whiskey  was  a  cash 
article.  The  man  said  he  had  plenty  of  money,  and  imme- 
diatelji^  showed  some  grains  of  the  precious  metal  which  he  had 
brought  from  the  saw-mill.  The  store-keeper,  having  satisfied 
himself  that  the  yellow  particles  were  indeed  gold,  supplied  the 
whiskey,  at  the  same  time  begging  the  man  to  tell  where  he  had 
got  it.  The  teamster,  at  first,  refused  to  reveal  the  secret,  but 
the  whiskey  soon  unloosed  his  tongue,  and  he  related  the  whole 
story. 

The  rush  that  followed  is  well  known.  All  California  hurried 
to  the  spot.  Sutter's  harvest  w^as  never  gathered.  His  oxen, 
hogs,  and  sheep  were  stolen  by  hungry  men  and  devoured. 
No  hands  could  be  procured  to  run  the  mills.  His  lands  were 
squatted  upon  and  dug  over,  and  he  wasted  his  remaining 
substance  in  fruitless  litigation  to  recover  it.  To  carry  on  the 
legal  'warfare  he  was  compelled  to  sacrifice  or  mortgage  the 

15 


226  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY. 

parts  of  his  estate  not  seized  by  the  gold-diggers;  until,  little 
by  little,  his  roagiiificeut  property  melted  away,  and  he  is  now, 
at  the  age  of  sixty-four,  all  but  destitute.  For  one  item  he  has 
paid,  during  the  last  ten  years,  in  counsel  fees  and  legal 
expenses,   one  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars. 

As  for  jDoor  Marshall  (who  claims  to  be  a  great  grandson  of 
a  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence),  he  was  one  of 
the  unsuccessful  diggers.  He  was  reduced  to  extreme  poverty. 
Two  or  three  years  ago,  however,  he  obtained  a  warrant  for  a 
tract  of  land  in  California,  to  which  his  services  in  the  Mexican 
w^ar  entitled  him,  and  upon  which  he  began  the  culture  of 
grapes.  In  this  business  he  has  had  some  success,  and  his 
prospects  are  fair  for  a  secure  and  honorable  old  age.  His 
little  farm  is  situated  not  far  from  the  spot  where,  nineteen 
years  ago,  he  ruined  himself  by  discovering  a  gold  mine. 


VALENTINE    MOTT.  227 


VALENTINE    MOTT. 


On  that  Saturday  morning,  when  the  news  of  the  assassina- 
tion of  President  Lincohi  struck  horror  and  dismay  to  the  minds 
of  the  people  of  New  York,  Dr.  Valentine  Mott,  the  most  emi- 
nent surgeon  America  has  produced,  was  seated  in  his  dressing- 
room  under  the  hands  of  his  barber.  He  had  reached  the  a^je 
of  eighty  years,  but  was  still  hale  and  vigorous.  Though  re- 
tired from  practice,  he  w^as  occasionally  induced  to  perform  an 
operation,  and  his  hand  appeared  to  have  lost  little  of  its  steadi- 
ness or  skill.  Four  times  during  the  last  winter  he  had  oper- 
ated for  rigidity  of  the  lower  jaw ;  he  had  used  the  knife  that 
verj^  week,  and  was  under  an  engagement  to  remove  an  en- 
larged cancer  of  the  breast.  The  doctor  was  an  unusually 
handsome  old  gentleman,  of  erect  and  finely  developed  frame, 
his  countenance  well  defined  and  healthy-looking,  and  his  hair 
as  white  as  snow.  As  he  appeared  in  the  streets,  clad  in  his 
suit  of  spotless  black,  his  linen  as  snowy  as  his  hair,  he  looked 
the  very  picture  of  that  character  which  is  so  much  admired, 
"a  gentleman  of  the  old  school." 

It  has  been  a  custom  with  barbers,  from  time  immemorial,  to 
discourse  with  their  patrons  of  the  news  of  the  day.  The  barber 
of  Dr.  ]\Iott  at  once  began  to  speak  of  the  awful  news  of  that 
morninir.  The  doctor,  who  had  heard  nothing:  of  it,  was  over- 
whelmed  with  the  intelligence.  He  turned  as  pale  as  death. 
Hising  from  his  chair,  he  staggered  to  an  adjoining  room  in 
search  of  his  wife.  "My  dear,"  said  he,  "I  have  receiv^ed  such 
a  shock, — President  Lincoln  has  been  murdered."  Having 
uttered  these  words,  he  sat  down,  still  deadly  pale,  and  so 
feeble  that  he  could  scarcely  keep  his  scat.  He  was  soon  seized 
with  acute  pains  in  the  back,  and  appeared  to  be  overtaken, 


228  PEOPLE'i    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

all  lit  once,  with  the  weakness  usually  attached  to  fourscore* 
From  that  time,  he  continued  to  grow  feebler  every  hour,  and, 
after  lingering  ten  days,  breathed  his  last,  —  a  victim  of  the 
same  blow  that  robbed  the  nation  of  its  chief. 

Dr.  Mott  was  born  at  Glen  Cove,  on  Long  Island,  in  1785, 
only  fifteen  months  after  the  final  ratification  of  the  treaty  which 
acknowledged  the  independence  of  the  United  States ;  so  that 
he  was  almost  as  old  as  the  nation.  His  father,  Henry  Mott, 
was  also  a  physician,  an  old  New  York  practitioner,  who  died 
at  the  age  of  eightj^-three.  After  the  usual  course  of  medical 
study  at  Columbia  College,  he  obtained  his  degree  in  his  twenty- 
first  year,  and  sailed  for  Europe  to  continue  his  studies.  At 
that  time,  owing  to  the  severity  of  the  laws  against  body-snatch- 
ing, and  the  intense  hostility  of  the  people  to  the  dissection  of 
the  dead,  it  was  impossible  in  New  York  to  procure  the  requisite 
means  of  studying  the  human  frame.  Bodies  were  occasionally 
obtained  from  the  prisons  and  almshouses,  but  even  these  were 
granted  reluctantly,  and,  at  that  clay,  they  were  very  few  iu 
number.  Hence  the  necessity  which  compelled  a  young  man, 
ambitious  to  rise  high  in  his  profession,  to  repair  to  the  medical 
schools  of  Paris,  London,  and  Edinburgh. 

Dr.  Mott  spent  three  3^ears  abroad,  and  faithfully  improved 
his  time.  A  surgeon,  however,  like  a  poet,  is  born,  not  made. 
That  firmness  and  dexterity  of  hand,  that  boldness  and  resolu- 
tion, that  perfect  eyesight,  that  strength  of  muscle,  that  calmness 
of  nerve,  and  power  of  enduring  a  long  drain  upon  the  vitality, 
which  are  requisite  in  great  surgical  operations,  are  nature's 
own  gift.  Study  may  make  a  man  a  physician,  but  no  man  can 
be  a  great  surgeon  unless  he  is  born  for  that  vocation.  In  the 
hospitals  of  Europe,  while  still  little  more  than  a  youth.  Dr. 
Mott  gave  evidence  of  possessing  the  surgeon's  peculiar  organi- 
zation. He  performed  several  leading  operations  with  so  much 
success,  that  he  returned  home  famous,  and  was  at  once  ap- 
pointed Professor  of  Surgery  in  Columbia  College.  From  that 
time  to  the  day  of  his  death,  a  period  of  fifty-six  years,  he  was 
a  Professor  of  Surgery  in  New  York.  He  was  the  first  teacher 
of  his  art  in  this  country  to  deliver  bedside  lectures  to  students, 
—  a  method  extremely  disagreeable  to  the  patient  whose  dis* 


VALENTINE    MOTT.  220 

eased  body  furnishes    llic    subject  of  the   lecture,   but   higlily 
beneficial  to  the  students. 

He  used  to  tell  a  story  of  the  desperate  risks  that  had  to  !)e 
incurred,  fifty  years  ago,  in  getting  bodies  for  dissection.  To 
be  merely  found  in  possession  of  a  human  limb  subjected  a 
student  to  a  long  term  of  imprisonment ;  and  such  Avas  the  fury 
of  the  people  against  dissection,  that,  if  a  man  escaped  the 
severity  of  the  law,  he  would  ])e  likely  to  incur  a  worse  fate  at 
the  hands  of  a  mol).  Nevertheless,  one  dark  night,  in  1815, 
Dr.  INIott  and  a  number  of  his  students  braved  all  the  terrors  of 
the  law  and  of  the  mob  in  their  efforts  to  procure  a  winter's 
supply  of  "subjects."  Dressed  in  the  coarse  and  well-worn 
clothes  of  if  laborer,  he  mounted  a  cart,  and  drove  alone  to  a 
burying-ground  some  distance  out  of  town.  A  band  of  students 
had  been  at  work  within  the  enclosure,  and,  by  the  time  the 
cart  arived,  they  were  ready  with  the  load  designed  for  it. 
Eleven  bodies  were  quickly  placed  in  the  cart,  and  covered 
over  in  such  a  way  as  to  lead  passers-by  to  suppose  that  it  was 
loaded  with  country  produce.  That  done,  the  young  men  van- 
ished into  the  night,  leaving  their  professor  to  drive  his  cart  to 
the  college  in  Barclay  street.  In  the  dead  of  night  he  drove 
down  Broadway,  and  reached  the  college  unchallenged,  where 
the  band  of  students  wexe  ready  to  receive  him.  The  load  was 
proriiptly  transferred  to  the  dissecting-room,  and  the  cart  re- 
turned to  its  owner. 

To  a  late  period  of  his  life  he  was  accustomed,  before  per- 
forming an  important  operation,  to  experiment  upon  the  dead 
body. 

A  story  is  told  of  his  readiness  in  the  lecture-room.  A 
mother  brought  into  the  amphitheatre,  one  morning,  an  ex- 
tremely dirty,  sickly,  miserable-looking  child,  for  the  purpose 
of  having  a  tumor  removed.  He  exhibited  the  tumor  to  the 
class,  but  informed  the  mother  that  he  could  not  operate  upon 
the  child  without  the  consent  of  her  husband.  One  of  the  stu- 
dents, in  his  eagerness  to  examine  the  tumor,  jumped  over  into 
the  little  enclosure  designed  for  the  operator  and  his  patients. 
Dr.  Mott,  observing  this  intrusion,  turned  to  the  student,  and 
af*ked  him,  with  the  most  innocent  expression  of  countenance : 


230  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

"  Are  you  the  father  of  this  child  ?  "  Thunders  of  applause  and 
laughter  greeted  this  ingenious  rebuke,  during  which  the  intru- 
der returned  to  his  place  crestfallen. 

His  cooJness  in  the  very  crisis  of  an  operation  was  very  re-, 
markable.  If  he  had  occasion  for  another  instrument,  he  never 
took  it  without  a  courteous  bow  and  word  to  the  assistant  who 
handed  it  to  him.  There  was  never  the  slightest  appearance  of 
haste,  tremor,  anxiety,  or  excitement.  He  went  calmly  on, 
from  the  first  incision  to  the  last  ligature,  his  touch  always  sure, 
and  his  judgment  clear.  He  cut  firmly  and  boldly,  yet  w^ith  a 
certain  gentleness,  too,  that  reduced  the  patient's  sufierings  to 
the  minimum,  and  greatly  facilitated  the  healing  of  the  wounds. 
There  was  no  chloroform,  it  must  be  remembered,  during  the 
first  forty  years  of  his  practice,  to  keep  the  patient  still  and  un- 
conscious under  the  knife.  The  surgeon  had  to  endure  at  every 
moment  the  consciousness  that  he  was  inflicting  agony,  and  hear 
the  shrieks  of  the  sufierer  lying  bound  upon  the  table,  or  held 
by  strong  men  in  the  chair. 

The  first  honors  of  surgery  are  awarded  to  those  who  are  the 
first  to  perform  difiicult  operations.  Judged  by  this  standard, 
Dr.  Mott  is  entitled  to  the  first  rank  among  the  surgeons  of  the 
world.  In  his  thirty-third  year,  he  placed  a  ligature  around 
arteries  within  two  inches  of  the  heart,  —  an  operation  sufficient 
of  itself  to  place  him  at  the  summit  of  his  profession.  In  1828, 
he  performed  what  is  universally  allowed  to  be  the  most  difficult 
feat  ever  attempted  in  surgery.  A  clergyman  was  afflicted  with 
an  enormous  tumor  in  the  neck,  in  which  were  embedded  and 
twisted  many  of  the  great  arteries.  In  removing  this  tumor,  it 
was  necessary  to  take  out  entire  one  of  the  collar-bones,  to 
lay  bare  the  membrane  enclosing  the  lungs,  to  dissect  around 
arteries  displaced  by  the  tumor  and  embedded  in  it,  to  apply 
forty  ligatures,  and  remove  an  immense  mass  of  diseased  matter. 
All  this  was  done  without  the  aid  of  chloroform.  The  patient 
survived  the  operation,  and  is  now  living,  and  discharging  the 
duties  of  his  profession.  Dr.  Mott  was  the  first  to  openite  suc- 
cessfully for  immovability  of  the  lower  jaw,  and  the  first  to 
entirely  remove  the  lower  jaw.  He  was  the  first  to  succeed  in 
sewing  up  a  slit  in  a  large  vein ;  and  he  did  this  in  some  cases 


VALENTINE     MOTT.  2'3i 

where  a  portion  of  the  vein  hiid  been  sliced  iiway,  —  an  opera- 
tion of  inconceivable  delicacy.  He  once  cut  iiway  two  inches 
of  the  deep  jugular  vein,  which  was  embedded  in  a  tumor,  and 
tied  both  ends  of  it.  In  the  course  of  his  long  professional  life 
he  tied  the  carotid  artery  forty-six  times ;  performed  the  opera- 
tion for  stone  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  times ;  and  amputated 
nearly  a  thousand  limbs.  Sir  Astley  Cooper  truly  remarked  : 
"  Dr.  Mott  has  performed  more  of  the  great  operations  than  any 
man  living,  or  that  ever  did  live." 

A  great  surgeon  is  frequently  tempted,  by  the  mere  love  of 
his  art,  to  perform  an  operation  not  strictly  necessary.  Dr. 
Mott  held  this  practice  in  abhorrence.  lie  used  to  relate  an 
anecdote  of  his  last  visit  to  Paris,  which  shows  that  some  sur- 
geons are  not  so  scrupulous.  A  celebrated  Paris  surgeon  asked 
him  one  day  if  he  would  like  to  see  him  perform  his  original 
operation.  "Nothing  would  give  me  more  pleasure,"  replied 
Dr.  Mott.  The  Frenchman  mused  a  moment,  and  then  said : 
"  However,  now  I  think  of  it,  there  is  no  patient  in  the  hospital 
who  has  that  malady.  No  matter,  my  dear  friend,  there  is  a 
poor  devil  in  AYard  No.  — ,  who  is  of  no  use  to  himself  or  any- 
body else  ;  and  if  you'll  come  to-morrow,  I'll  operate  beautiful!}^ 
on  him."  It  need  not  be  said  that  Dr.  Mott  declined  to  witness 
the  perpetration  of  a  crime  so  atrocious. 

The  venerable  doctor  was  an  ardent  patriot.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  the  rebellion  he  gave  a  curious  reply  to  a  friend  who 
asked  him  what  he  thouiicht  would  be  its  result. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "I  grant  you  that  the  body  politic  has  been 
severel}^  lacerated,  and  I  doubt  not  that  the  wound  will  heal 
eventually ;  but  it  will  be  by  the  second  intention.  There  will 
always  be  a  scar  to  mark  the  union  of  the  dissevered  parts." 

He  was  one  of  the  eminent  men  commissioned  by  the  govern- 
ment to  examine  the  prisoners  of  war  whom  Jefferson  Davis  had 
starved  and  tortured  at  Andersonville,  Salisbury,  and  Belle  Isle. 
On  his  return,  he  was  asked  whether  the  newspaper  reports  of 
their  condition  were  exaggerated. 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  exclaimed,  with  horror  depicted  on  his 
countenance,  "you  can  form  no  idea  of  the  poor,  shrivelled, 
wasted  victims.    In  the  whole  course  of  my  surgical  experience, 


232  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

not  excepting  the  most  painful  operations  on  deformed  limbs,  1 
have  never  suffered  so  much  in  my  life  at  the  sight  of  anything, 
I  care  not  what  it  is.     It  unnerved  me.     I  felt  sick." 

This,  remember,  was  the  testimony  of  a  man  who,  for  a  period 
of  sixty-five  years,  had  been  in  the  constant  habit  of  witnessing 
human  suffering  in  every  form  ;  who  had  lived  in  the  hospitals 
of  the  great  cities ;  and  who  was  a  gentleman  of  unimpeachable 
veracity. 


THEODORE    K.    TIMET.  233 


THEODORE   R.   TIMBY. 


It  is  safe  to  say  that  not  one  in  ten  of  the  American  people 
ever  lieard  of  the  gentleman  whose  name  stands  at  the  head  of 
this  article.  Still  more  certain  is  it  that  every  American  citizen 
is  indebted  to  him  for  a  service  of  the  greatest  importance. 

It  was  remarkable,  during  the  late  war,  that  the  news  of  the 
most  thrilling  events  usually  reached  New  York  on  Sunday. 
Who  will  ever  forget  that  Sunday  evening,  in  March,  1862,  when 
an  "Extra"  horrified  us  all  with  the  intelligence  that  the  long- 
derided  iron-clad  monster,  Merrimac,  had  "come  out"  at  last, 
and  sunk  the  Congress,  captured  and  burnt  the  Cumberland, 
driven  the  Minnesota  aground,  thrown  shot  into  the  camp  at 
Newport  News,  and  only  awaited  the  dawn  of  another  day  to 
continue  her  ravages.  We  were  informed,  too,  that  the  heaviest 
cannon-balls  glanced  from  her  iron  armor  as  harmlessly  as  hail- 
stones from  a  slate-covered  roof.  What  was  to  prevent  this 
new  engine  of  war  from  raining  destruction  upon  Fortress  ]Mon- 
roe  and  upon  General  McClellan's  army?  Nay,  what  had  we 
that  could  prevent  her  steaming  up  the  Potomac,  and  destroying 
the  city  of  Washington? 

This  was  bad  news  to  go  to  bed  upon ;  but  we  were  hardened 
to  bad  news  then,  and  most  of  us,  I  suppose,  slept  our  regular 
allowance.  But  oh,  the  relief,  when  we  seized  the  paper  next 
morning,  and  read  the  strange  tale  of  the  JMonitor's  interposi- 
tion ;  how  a  "  small  raft  with  a  cheese-box  upon  it "  had  come 
between  the  Merrimac  and  her  helpless  prey,  the  grounded 
Minnesota,  and,  after  a  four  hours'  fight,  driven  the  monster  off 
disabled  ! 

If,  on  that  day,  I  could  have  gone  down  town  and  pointed 
out  to  the  crowd  in  Wall  Street  the  man  in  whose  brain  the  idea 


234  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAIl.'Y. 

of  the  Monitor  originated,  good  heavens  !  what  would  they  have 
done  with  him?  Or,  still  better,  if  I  could  have  taken  him  on 
board  the  rescued  Minnesota,  would  it  not  have  required  all  the 
spell  of  discipline  to  prevent  the  sailors  from  hugging  him  to 
within  an  incli  of  his  life  ? 

I  have  the  honor  of  presenting  this  gentleman  to  the  reader : 
Theodore  E.  Timby  is  his  name.  He  is  a  native  of  Dutchess 
County,  in  the  State  of  Xew  York,  and  now  resides  at  Saratoga 
Springs,  in  the  same  State.  His  claim  to  the  invention  has 
been  acknowledged  by  the  government,  and  he  has  received,  as 
owner  of  the  patent,  a  certain  sum  upon  every  turreted  vessel 
built  since  the  Monitor  demonstrated  their  utility.  Strange  to 
relate,  this  invention  was  twenty  years  old  when  the  war  broke 
out,  and  Mr.  Timby's  first  patent  had  slumbered,  useless  and 
scarcely  known,  for  a  period  of  eighteen  years.  This  arrow 
remained  in  the  national  quiver  all  that  time,  to  be  drawn  forth 
at  a  critical  moment,  and  used  with  an  efiect  that  astonished  all 
the  world. 

Theodore  R.  Timby,  born  in  1822,  a  farmer's  son,  educated 
in  the  public  schools  of  his  native  State,  was  an  inventor  almost 
from  his  childhood.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  made  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  inventions  of  our  age,  —  that  of  the  floating  dry- 
dock.  Readers  in  the  country,  joerhaps,  do  not  know  what  a 
floating  dry-dock  is.  It  is  a  huge  wooden  box,  sunk  to  the 
bottom  of  the  river  by  being  filled  with  water.  AVhen  it  is  de- 
sired to  raise  a  ship  out  of  water,  for  the  purpose  of  repairing 
or  coppering  her  bottom,  she  is  floated  over  and  fastened  to  this 
sunken  box.  The  water  is  then  pumped  out  of  the  box  by 
steam  pumps,  which,  of  course,  causes  it  to  rise  to  the  surface, 
carrying  the  ship  up  with  it.  By  this  simple  contrivance  I  once 
saw  a  Cunard  steamship,  with  all  her  freight  and  coal  on  board, 
lifted  out  of  the  water  in  about  two  hours.  This  exquisite  in- 
vention was  made  by  a  boy  of  sixteen.  Many  persons  still 
living  saw  his  model  and  admired  his  idea ;  but  he  was  too 
young  to  pursue  it,  and  his  dock  was  subsequently  re-in vented, 
patented,  and  brought  into  general  use  by  other  parties. 

His  notion  of  a  revolving  turret  was  also  a  fancy  of  his  boy- 
hood.    He  has  still  in  his  possession  a  model  of  a  revolving 


THEODORE    R.     TIMBY.  235 

tower,;  cut  in  ivory  when  he  was  r/neteeii  years  old.  lie  de- 
signed his  tower  for  use  both  on  hind  and  sea,  and  his  first  pat- 
ent, dated  January  18,  1843,  specifies  this  twofold  use.  On 
shore,  his  invention  would  be  a  revolving,  iron-clad  fort;  em- 
ployed on  the  sea,  it  is  a  revolving,  iron-clad,  floating  battery. 

In  the  spring  of  1843,  having  obtained  his  patent,  the  young 
inventor  proceeded  to  construct  a  model  of  a  revolving  fortress, 
twenty-one  feet  in  circumference.  This  model  was  made  at 
Syracuse,  and  was  afterwards  brought  to  New  York,  where  it 
was  publicly  exhibited,  and  described  in  the  newspapers.  When 
President  Tyler  passed  through  Xew  York,  in  June  of  that  year, 
it  was  shown  to  him  in  the  Governor's  Room  of  the  City  Hall. 
The  invention  was  admired  by  all  competent  persons  who  in- 
spected it;  but  no  one,  it  appears,  appreciated  its  importance. 
No  iron-clad  vessels  having  yet  been  built,  and  rifled  cannon 
being  unknown,  the  necessity  of  iron-clad  forts  was  not  appar- 
ent. The  inventor  was  told,  by  the  military  authorities  at 
Washington,  that  the  forts  already  existing  were  suflScient  for 
the  defence  of  our  harbors,  and  his  mvention  was  totally  neg- 
lected by  them. 

As  on  a  lovely  day  in  summer  it  is  difficult  to  realize  that, 
ere  many  months  have  passed,  the  earth  will  be  covered  with 
snow,  and  wintry  winds  howling  through  the  leafless  trees,  so, 
when  peace  has  long  blessed  a  country,  it  is  not  eas}-  to  believe 
that  war  will  one  day  threaten  and  desolate  its  shores.  I  well 
remember  walking  over  Governor's  Island,  in  New  York  harbor, 
some  years  ago,  and  finding  its  principal  fortification  without  a 
serviceable  gun,  and  tenanted  only  by  one  woman.  For  many 
years  before  the  outbreak  of  the  late  war,  another  island  in  the 
harbor,  filled  with  warlike  stores,  was  in  the  custody  of  one 
sergeant.  In  1843  Mr.  Timby  could  get  no  official  person  to 
urge  the  adoption  of  his  invention,  which  he  had  expended  sev- 
eral thousand  dollars  in  completing.  In  1848  he  made  such 
progress  as  to  get  a  committee  appointed  to  examine  his  plans 
and  models.  One  member  of  this  committee  was  Jeflerson 
Davis.  These  gentlemen  joined  the  Chief  of  Ordnance  in  re- 
porting favorably  upon  the  invention  to  Mr.  Marcy,  the  Secre- 
tary of  War;    and  there  the  matter  rested.     It  would  have 


236  PEOPLE'S      BOOK      OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

required,  indeed,  a  very  bold  and  far-seeing  Secretary  of  War 
to  have  undertaken,  in  1848,  the  erection  of  revolving  iron-clad 
forts  and  floating  batteries. 

Mr.  Timby  then  went  to  France,  and  submitted  his  plans  to 
the  government  of  Louis  Napoleon.  He  had  no  better  success 
at  Paris  than  at  Washington. 

Never  did  he  cease  to  meditate  and  improve  upon  his  original 
conception,  although  compelled  to  direct  his  chief  attention  to 
other  business.  He  made  several  valuable  inventions,  twenty 
of  which  were  patented.  AVhen  the  war  broke  out,  in  1861,  he 
felt  that  the  time  had  come  to  bring  his  favorite  scheme  to  bear 
upon  the  defence  of  his  country,  and  he  immediately  made  a 
new  model  of  his  revolving  tower,  wdiich  combined  all  the  im- 
provements w^hich  eighteen  years  of  reflection  had  suggested. 
This  model  he  took  to  Washington,  and  placed  it  in  a  room  of 
the  Treasury  Department,  where  it  was  seen  by  the  members  of 
the  cabinet  and  the  public.  The  value  of  the  idea  was  not  yet 
fully  recognized.  It  was  not  until  the  immortal  Monitor  had 
done  her  glorious  morning's  work  in  Hampton  Roads,  a  year 
later,  that  Mr.  Timbj^'s  invention  was  hailed  throughout  the 
world  as  a  most  important  addition  to  the  art  of  war. 

It  is  pleasant  to  record  that  the  inventor  of  the  iron-clad  re- 
volving turret,  after  waiting  twenty-two  years  for  his  reward, 
obtained  it  at  last,  and  without  difficulty.  His  claim  to  the 
invention  was  not  disputed,  and  could  not  be.  A  new  patent 
was  issued  to  him,  covering  all  his  late  improvements.  The 
gentlemen  who  had  contracted  to  build  Monitors  for  the  govern- 
ment ofiered  terms  to  the  inventor,  which  he  considered  just, 
and  which  he  accepted.  His  emoluments,  of  course,  have  not 
been  as  great  as  those  of  some  enterprising  sutlers,  who  sold 
whiskey  and  water  to  the  troops  at  five  dollars  a  bottle,  but 
they  have  been  such  as  satisfy  a  man  of  moderate  desires  and 
intellectual  tastes. 

The  turret  principle  has  not  yet  been  applied  to  the  construc- 
tion of  forts,  and  I  know  not  whether  such  an  application  of  it 
is  in  contemplation.  One  thing  may  be  regarded  as  certain : 
no  fort  made  of  masonry  can  resist  the  ordnance  now  employed 
in  the  navies  of  Great  Britain,  France,  and  the  United  States. 


THEODORE    R.     TIMBY.  237 

1  believe  that  both  Fmnce  and  England  possess  vessels  that 
could  run  by  the  forts  defending  New  York,  Boston,  Philadel- 
phia, Baltimore,  and  Charleston,  and  anchor  off  cither  of  those 
cities,  holding  them  at  their  mercy.  The  only  safeguard  our 
cities  have  is  the  fleet  of  turrctcd  iron-clads,  which  originated 
in  the  ingenious  brain  of  Theodore  R.  Timby.  Whether  these 
arc  sufficient,  without  the  aid  of  iron-clad  forts  on  land,  is  a 
question,  the  solution  of  which  ought  not  to  be  deferred  until 
wo  are  again  involved  iu  war. 


238  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    05    BIOGEAPHT. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  WINFIELD  SCOTT. 


The  first  time  I  ever  saw  the  late  Lieutenant-General  Scott, 
he  was  fifty  years  of  age,  and  I  was  fourteen.  He  lived  then  at 
Elizabethtown,  New  Jersey,  where  he  had  a  large,  old,  and 
dilapidated  mansion,  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  grounds  worse 
kept  than  any  others  in  the  neighborhood.  The  general  was 
seldom  at  home  in  those  days,  and,  during  his  long  absences, 
there  was  nobody  in  the  house  except  the  family  in  charge. 

At  that  time,  too.  General  Scott  had  little  more  than  his  pay 
and  allowances  as  a  major-general,  and  his  family  was  an  ex- 
pensive one.  Moreover,  a  general  on  distant  service,  or  m 
active  campaigning,  has  to  maintain  two  establishments,  both 
of  which  should  be  upon  a  scale  of  some  liberality.  His  ftimily 
have  to  be  maintained  at  home,  and  his  own  tent  in  the  field 
ought  to  be  the  scene  of  frequent  hospitality.  Some  of  our 
generals,  during  the  late  war,  were  compelled  sometimes  to 
keep  up  three  establishments,  — one  at  home,  one  in  the  field, 
and  one  at  the  head-quarters  of  their  departments.  This  was 
frequently  the  case  with  General  B.  F.  Butler,  who  spent, 
during  the  ^ve  years  he  was  in  the  service,  a  little  more  than 
three  times  as  much  as  he  received.  General  Scott,  for  many 
years  of  his  life,  was  constantly  pinched  to  make  his  six 
thousand  dollars  a  year  last  till  the  year  was  at  an  end,  and 
hence  the  forlorn  appearance  of  his  house  and  grounds. 

But  his  own  appearance  was  most  strikingly  superb  thirty 
years  ago.  I  saw  him  as  he  was  stepping  on  board  a  steamboat 
at  Elizabethport,  in  undress  uniform,  with  a  magnificent  blue 
cloak  upon  his  shoulders,  lined  with  red.  His  height,  as  I 
afterwards  heard  him  say,  was  six  feet  four  inches,  and  his  form 
Was  finely  developed,  erect,  and  symmetrical.     His  dark  hair 


-En^ravf 


THE 


RECOLLECTIONS     OF    WINFIELD     SCOTT.       239 

had  not  yet  begun  to  turn  gray.  Take  him  for  all  in  all,  he 
was  the  most  imposing  person,  at  first  sight,  that  I  have  ever 
beheld.  As  he  walked  down  the  plank  of  the  stcaml)oat,  with 
his  martial  cloak  ai'ound  him,  followed  by  a  colored  servant 
carrying  a  portmanteau,  and  saluted  by  every  one  whom  he 
passed,  the  school-boy  was  thrilled  and  overwhelmed  by  the 
gorgeous  apparition.  There  was  something  even  about  the 
portmanteau  that  w^as  distinguished,  and  the  black  man  who 
was  carrying  it  was  an  object  of  interest,  if  not  of  veneration, 
to  the  assembled  youth  upon  the  wharf. 

When  next  I  saw  General  Scott,  his  head  w\as  white  with  the 
snows  of  seventy  winters,  and  his  giant  form  had  lost  much  of 
its  spring,  though  nothing  of  its  erectncss  and  majesty.  It  was 
in  New  York  that  I  saw  him,  at  his  head-quarters  in  Twelfth 
Street ;  for  the  enmity  and  vituperation  of  Jefferson  Davis,  the 
Secretary  of  War,  had  induced  him  (as  I  always  supposed)  to 
transfer  his  official  residence  from  Washington  to  New  York. 
I  w^as  preparing  then  to  write  the  life  of  Aaron  Burr,  and  hear 
ing  that  the  general  had  known  him,  I  called  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  information. 

His  office  w^as  the  back  parlor  of  a  private  house,  and  visitors* 
were  shown  into  the  front  parlor ;  but  as  the  door  between  w^as 
open,  they  could  hear  and  see  the  general  as  he  sat  at  his  desk 
transacting  the  business  of  the  little  army  of  w^hich  he  was  the 
chief.  Two  or  three  aides-de-camp  were  lounging  a1)out,  and 
occasionally  assisting  the  general. 

During  the  half  hour  that  I  had  to  wait,  after  sending  in  my 
card  ancl  letter  of  introduction,  the  only  business  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief seemed  to  be  the  reading  of  requests  for  leaves 
of  absence,  and  other  letters  respecting  trifling  details  of  army 
business.  I  remember  thinking  that  a  major-general  mounted 
upon  a  fine  bay  charger,  with  a  plume  in  his  hat,  was  a  much 
more  picturesque  and  interesting  object  than  a  major-general 
seated  at  a  desk  in  a  back  office,  considering  whether  Lieutenant 
Jones  ought,  or  ought  not,  to  be  allowed  a  leave  of  thirty  days 
to  attend  his  sister's  wedding. 

If  the  business  was  petty,  it  was  soon  over  for  the  day,  and 
I  was  admitted.     There  is  an  impression  that  General  Scott 


240  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

was  haughty  in  his  manner,  and  difficult  of  access.  I  did  not 
find  him  so,  either  on  this  or  any  other  occasion.  His  manners, 
on  the  contrary,  were  easy  and  quiet,  and  he  was  evidently 
desirous  of  obliging  me.  After  reflecting  a  moment,  he  began 
in  this  manner  :  — 

"I  saw  Aaron  Burr  four  times  in  his  life.  The  first  time  w^as 
just  fifty  years  ago,  at  Richmond,  on  the  day  he  first  came  into 
court  on  his  trial  for  treason." 

He  then  proceeded  to  give  a  minute  and  most  interesting 
account  of  the  scene  and  the  man.  Very  much  of  that  curious 
information  respecting  the  lawyers,  the  judges,  the  court  room. 
Burrs  demeanor,  and  the  scenes  out  of  doors,  given  in  my  life 
of  Aaron  Burr  (vol.  ii.,  chap,  xv.),  was  derived  from  the  lips 
of  General  Scott.  I  never  knew  such  a  memory  as  his.  He 
related  those  events  of  half  a  century  ago  with  an  exactness  and 
fulness  of  detail  that  could  not  have  been  surpassed  if  they  had 
occurred  a  week  before.  Afterwards,  at  Richmond,  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  learning  how  correctly  he  had  sketched  the  char- 
acters of  the  great  law^^ers  and  judges  employed  in  the  case, 
from  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  who  presided,  to  lame  "Jack 
Baker,"  the  jester  of  the  bar. 

General  Scott,  among  other  things,  set  at  rest  the  much-dis- 
puted question  as  to  whether  General  Andrew  Jackson  re- 
mained Burr's  friend  after  his  arrest  for  treason.  General  Scott 
told  me  that  he  heard  Jackson  haranguing  a  crowd  from  the 
steps  of  a  grocery  store  in  Richmond,  denouncing  President 
Jefferson  as  Buvv's  j)ersecutor,  and  defending  Burr  as  the  victim 
of  political  conspiracy.  Jackson  was  exceedingly  violent,  both 
in  his  language  and  manner,  —  so  much  so  that  3'oung  Scott 
asked  who  it  was.  He  was  told  that  it  was  a  "  great  black- 
guard from  Tennessee,  one  Andrew  Jackson." 

General  Jackson,  I  may  add,  never  believed  that  Aaron  Burr 
was  a  traitor ;  and  when  he  was  president  he  gave  some  very 
lucrative  offices  to  Burr's  friends,  and  secretly  aided  the  late 
Samuel  Houston,  of  Texas,  to  do  part  of  what  Burr  meant  to 
do.  Burr's  great  object  was  to  extirpate  the  Spanish  power  in 
North  America,  and  he  intended  to  begin  by  seizing  Texas, 
"which  was  then  a  Spanish  province.     From  Texas  he  intended 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  WINFIELD  SCOTT.   211 

to  march  upon  Mexico,  of  which  country  he  designed  to  niako 
himself  emperor,  and  reign  over  all  the  Spanish  provinces  to 
the  Isthmus  of  Darien. 

General  Scott  proceeded  to  relate  the  circumstances  in  which 
he  next  saw  Aaron  Burr.  lie  said  that  during  the  war  of  1812, 
after  he  had  recovered  from  his  wound  received  on  the  frontier, 
he  lived  for  a  short  time  at  Albany,  where  he  was  much  feted 
by  the  leading  inhabitants,  and  by  none  more  cordially  than 
by  Martin  Van  Buren,  then  a  lawyer  in  large  practice.  One 
morning  a  packet  arrived  from  Washington,  Avhich  proved  to 
contain  the  young  soldier's  commission  as  brigadier-general. 
Full  of  joy  at  his  promotion,  he  mentioned  the  fact  to  Mr.  Vau 
Buren,  whom  he  chanced  to  meet.  Mr.  Vau  Buren  congratu- 
lated him  warmly,  and  added  :  — 

"But,  general,  we  must  celebrate  this  happy  event.  Come 
to  my  house  this  evening;  I'll  invite  a  few  friends,  and  we'll 
take  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  few  oysters  together." 

The  new  general  accepted  the  invitation.  But,  suddenly,  a 
thought  seemed  to  occur  to  the  cautious  lawyer,  —  cautious  for 
his  friends  as  well  as  for  himself,  —  and  he  appeared  em- 
barassed. 

"  General,"  said  he,  "I  forgot  something  which  I  ought  to 
have  mentioned  before  asking  you  to  my  house.  Colonel  Burr 
Is  stopping  with  me  for  a  few  days.  Have  you  any  objection  to 
meet  him?" 

To  which  General  Scott  replied  :  — 

^^  Any  gentleman,  Mr.  Van  Buren,  whom  you  think  proper 
to  present  me  to,  I  shall  be  happy  to  know.'* 

Colonel  Burr,  the  reader  is  probably  aware,  had  recently 
returned  from  Europe,  where  he  had  lived  four  years,  and  ho 
was  almost  universally  regarded  by  the  public  as  a  traitor  who 
had  escaped  the  penalty  of  treason  only  by  the  craft  of  hi3 
lawyers.  Almost  all  his  old  friends  had  cut  him,  and  the 
administration,  under  President  Madison,  who  had  just  pro- 
moted General  Scott,  was  supposed  to  be  particularly  hostile  to 
him.  Hence  the  hesitation  of  jNIr.  Van  Buren  about  bringing 
together  the  young  soldier  and  the  old. 

The  evening  came.     The  companj^  consisted  of  four  persons, 

16 


24:2  PEOPLE'S    BOOK     OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

one  of  whom  was  the  concise,  polite,  and  courtly  Burr. 
General  Scott  remembered  him  well,  but  forbore  to  make  the 
most  distant  allusion  to  the  trial  at  Richmond. 

"  Wliy,"  said  the  general  to  me,  *'  I  was  so  careful  not  to  say 
anything  that  could  excite  painful  recollections,  that  I  actually 
checked  myself  as  I  was  about  to  pronounce  the  word  Virginia." 

All  at  once.  Colonel  Burr,  who  was  the  general's  partner  at 
whist,  fixed  his  piercing  eyes  upon  his  face,  and  said,  m  a 
perfectly  nonchalant  tone  :  — 

"  General  Scott,  I  have  seen  you  before." 

The  general  blushed,  and  stammered  out :  — 

"Have  you,  colonel?     And  where  was  it?" 

Burr  replied,  in  the  most  ordinary  tone  of  conversation,  as 
he  put  down  a  card  :  — 

"At  Eichmond,  in  the  court-room,  at  my  trial.  You  stood 
on  the  lock  of  the  door  above  the  crowd ;  I  noticed  you  at  the 
time ;   it  was  on  the  first  day.'* 

All  of  which  was  true.  The  room  being  densely  crowded, 
the  young  man  had  got  up  upon  the  massive  lock,  and,  being  so 
remarkably  tall,  he  had  caught  the  prisoner's  eye.  The  general 
said  that  Burr's  careless  tone  completely  relieved  him  from  his 
embarrassment,  and  they  had  a  long  and  pleasant  talk  about 
Richmond  and  the  Richmond  people,  the  trial  and  its  remark- 
able incidents, — Burr  speaking  precisely  as  though  he  had  been 
a  disinterested  spectator.  The  party  sat  late,  and  had  a  very 
deliofhtful  eveninor.  Colonel  Burr  made  one  remark  on  this 
occasion  which  General  Scott  long  had  occasion  to  remember. 
I  forget  the  words  employed,  but  they  were  something  like 
these  :  — 

"There  is  a  man  in  Tennessee,"  said  Burr,  "to  whom  Jimmy 
Madison  will  not  give  a  commission  because  he  is  a  friend  of 
mine  ;  but  he  is  equal  to  any  service.  I  mean  Andrew  Jackson. 
If  they  give  him  a  commission,  things  will  go  better  in  the 
western  country." 

I  need  not  say  that  Jimmy  Madison  did  give  Andrew  Jack- 
son a  commission,  and  that  things  did  go  better  in  tlie  western 
country  in  consequence. 

Speaking  of  Martin  Van  Buren,  for  whom  General  Scott  had 


EECOLLECTIONS     OF    WINFIELD     SCOTT.        2-13 

a  great  regard,  he  alluded  to  the  ptrpular  tradition  that  the  ex- 
jDresident  was  the  son  of  Aaron  Burr.  He  gave  a  decided 
denial  to  this  scandal,  and  adduced  convincing  reasons  for 
rejecting  it. 

The  other  two  occasions  upon  which  General  Scott  saw 
Aaron  Burr  w^ere  mere  chance  meetings  in  the  street.  The 
general  remarked  Burr's  habit  of  glancing  sideways  at  an  ap- 
proaching acquaintance  to  ascertain  in  time  whether  he  meant 
to  cut  him ;  and  if  he  did,  Burr  would  prevent  the  slight  by 
looking  away. 

General  Scott's  memory  was  full  to  overflowing  of  interesting 
recollections  of  the  men  and  events  of  the  past.  If  he  could 
have  written  these  recollections  as  well  as  he  related  them  in 
conversation,  his  autobiography  would  have  been  one  of  the 
most  interesting  of  books,  instead  of  being  one  of  the  dullest 
ever  published.  In  fact,  I  find  that  most  persons,  when  tLoy 
write,  leave  out  the  things  that  people  most  care  to  know. 


'U4  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 


SIR  ISAAC  NEWTON. 


-•o^ 


It  is  a  question  with  English  teachers,  whether  school-boya 
ought  or  ought  not  to  be  permitted  to  settle  their  quarrels  by  a 
fair  fight  with  fists.  In  the  great  schools  of  Eton,  Westminster, 
Harrow,  and  others,  fighting  is  tacitly  allowed;  but  in  the 
smaller  schools,  especially  those  under  the  charge  of  dissenters, 
it  is  forbidden. 

It  is  surprising  that,  in  the  course  of  this  controversy,  no  one 
has  brought  forward  the  fact,  that  the  greatness  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  dates  from  a  fight  which  he  had  with  one  of  his  school- 
fellows when  he  was  thirteen  years  of  age.  At  that  time,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  confession,  he  was  very  idle  at  school,  and 
stood  last  in  the  lowest  class  but  one.  One  morning,  as  he  was 
going  to  school,  the  boy  who  was  first  in  the  same  class  kicked 
him  in  the  stomach  with  so  much  violence  as  to  cause  him  severe 
pain  during  the  day.  When  the  school  was  dismissed,  he  chal- 
lenged the  boy  to  fight  him.  The  challenge  being  accepted,  a 
ring  was  formed  in  the  church-yard,  the  usual  place  of  combat, 
and  the  fight  begun.  Newton,  a  weakly  boy  from  his  birth, 
was  inferior  to  his  antagonist  in  size  and  strength ;  but,  smart- 
ing under  a  sense  of  the  indignity  he  had  received,  he  fought 
with  so  much  spirit  and  resolution  as  to  compel  his  adversary  to 
cry.  Enough.  The  school-master's  son,  who  had  been  clapping 
one  of  them  on  the  back  and  winking  at  the  other,  to  urge  on 
the  contest,  and  who  acted  as  a  kind  of  umpire,  informed  the 
victor  that  it  was  necessary  to  crown  his  triumph  by  rubbing  the 
other  boy's  nose  against  the  wall.  Little  Newton  seized  him  by 
the  ears,  thrust  his  face  against  the  rough  side  of  the  church, 
and  walked  home  exulting  in  his  victory. 

The  next  morning,  liowever,  he  had  again  the  mortification 


sin    ISAAC    NEWTOX.  21.J 

*if  seeing  his  enemy  at  the  head  of  the  class,  while  he  occnpicd 
bis  usual  \")lace  at  the  foot.  He  began  to  reflect.  Could  he  re- 
ofard  himself  in  the  liiT:ht  of  a  victor  while  his  foe  lorded  it  over 
nim  in  the  school-room?  The  applauding  shouts  of  his  school- 
fellows had  been  grateful  to  his  ears,  but  his  enemy  enjoyed  the 
approval  of  the  teacher.  The  laurels  of  the  play-ground  seemed 
to  fade  in  comparison  with  the  nobler  triumphs  of  the  mind. 
The  result  of  his  reflections  was,  that  he  determined  to  conquer 
his  adversary  again  by  getting  to  the  head  of  his  class.  From 
:.hat  time  he  became  as  studious  as  he  had  before  been  idle,  and 
soon  attained  the  second  place.  A  long  and  severe  struggle  en- 
sued between  him  and  his  adversary  for  the  first,  in  the  course 
of  which  each  triumphed  in  turn ;  but,  at  length,  Isaac  Newton 
remained  permanently  at  the  head.  He  never  relapsed  into  idle- 
ness. He  was  a  student  thenceforth  to  the  end  of  his  life  of 
nearly  eighty-five  years. 

We  do  not  oflTer  this  as  an  argument  in  favor  of  school-boy  fight- 
ing. On  the  contrary,  we  think  boys  can  arrange  their  little 
disputes  in  a  better  way  than  by  pommelling  one  another  with 
their  fists,  and  rubbing  one  another's  noses  against  a  stone  wall. 
We  relate  the  incident  merely  because  it  started  this  great  man 
in  his  career  as  a  student;  because  it  woke  his  dormant  intellect, 
which  never  went  to  sleep  again. 

They  still  show,  in  a  lovely  vale  of  Lincolnshire,  the  small, 
stone,  two-storied,  peak-roofed  manor  house  in  which  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  w^as  born.  A  marble  tablet  has  been  affixed  to  the  wall 
of  one  of  the  rooms,  bearing  this  inscription  :  — 

"  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  son  of  John  Newton,  Lord  of  the  Manor 
of  Woolsthrope,  was  born  in  this  room  on  the  25th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1642." 

"  Nature  and  Nature's  laws  lay  hid  in  night; 
God  said,  '  Let  Newton  be,'  and  all  was  light." 

The  sun-dial  made  by  him  when  he  was  a  boy  is  still  legible 
on  the  side  of  the  house  where  he  placed  it  two  hundred  years 
ago.  The  book-shelves  made  by  him  out  of  some  packing-boxeg 
are  also  preserved  in  the  room  in  which  he  conned  his  lessons. 


246  PEC?PLL'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY 

The  school  where  the  fight  occurred,  and  the  church  against 
"which  he  rubbed  his  anta<ronist's  face,  both  exist,  and  the  school 
is  even  more  flourishing  and  important  now  than  it  w^as  then. 
The  English  people  have  always  had  a  w^ay  of  making  things, 
—  not  for  a  day,  but  for  a  very  long  time. 

John  Newton,  the  father  of  the  philosopher,  was  a  gentleman 
who  possessed  two  small  farms,  the  united  revenue  of  which 
was  about  eighty  pounds  sterling  per  annum,  —  equal  to  four 
hundred  dollars.  But,  at  that  day,  eighty  pounds  would  buy 
as  much  as  four  times  that  sum  will  at  present.  He  died  at  the 
age  of  thirty-seven,  a  few  months  after  his  marriage,  and  a  few 
months  before  the  birth  of  his  illustrious  son.  The  infant, 
fatherless  before  its  birth,  and  born  prematurely,  was  of  so  di- 
minutive a  size,  and  so  extremely  feeble,  that  no  one  expected 
it  to  survive  the  first  day  of  its  life.  So  was  it  with  Voltaire, 
Beecher,  and  many  other  distinguished  persons  who  lived 
active  lives  and  attained  a  o^reat  ao:e. 

Of  the  mother  of  Newton  we  have  a  curious  anecdote,  which 
shows,  at  least,  that  she  was  a  woman  of  good  repute  in  her 
parish.  One  Mr.  Smith,  a  clergyman  of  the  neighborhood,  who 
had  a  good  estate,  having  attained  middle  age,  and  being  still  a 
bachelor,  one  of  his  parishioners  advised  him  to  marry.  He 
replied  that  he  did  not  know  where  to  get  a  good  wife. 

"  The  widow  Newton,"  said  his  friend,  "  is  an  extraordinary 
good  woman." 

"But,"  said  the  clergyman,  "how  do  I  know  she  will  have 
me?  and  I  don't  care  to  ask  and  be  denied.  But  if  you  will  go 
and  ask  her,  I'll  pay  you  for  your  day's  work." 

The  gentleman  having  performed  his  errand,  Mrs.  Newton  an- 
swered that  she  would  be  guided  in  the  aJBTair  by  the  advice  of  her 
brother.  Upon  receiving  this  answer,  the  clergyman  despatched 
him  to  the  brother,  with  w^hom  the  marriage  was  arranged.  Mrs. 
Newton,  however,  insisted  upon  one  point,  that  one  of  her  farms 
should  be  settled  upon  her  son,  then  four  years  old  ;  and  this  was 
done.  Soon  after  the  marriage,  Isaac  was  consigned  to  the  care 
of  one  of  his  aunts,  with  whom  he  resided  until  his  fifteenth  year, 
when  the  death  of  our  wary  clergyman  united  him  once  more 
to  his  mother,  and  they  resided  again  in  the  manor-house. 


SIR    ISAAC    NEWTON.  247 

From  cliiUlliood  Newton  exhibited  a  remarkiiblo  talent  for 
/iiechanics.  His  favorite  playthings  were  little  saws,  hammers, 
chisels,  and  hatchets,  with  which  he  made  many  curious  and 
in2:enious  machines.  There  was  a  windmill  in  course  of 
erection  near  his  home.  He  watched  the  workmen  with  the 
greatest  interest,  and  constructed  a  small  model  of  the  mill, 
which,  one  of  his  friends  said,  Avas  "as  clean  and  curious  a  piece 
of  workmanship  as  the  original."  He  w\as  dissatisfied,  however, 
with  his  mill,  because  it  would  not  work  Avhen  there  was  no 
wind ;  and,  therefore,  he  added  to  it  a  contrivance  by  w^hich  it 
could  be  kept  in  motion  by  a  mouse.  He  made  a  water-clock, 
the  motive  power  of  which  was  the  dropping  of  water  npoh  a 
wheel.  Every  morning,  on  getting  out  of  bed,  the  boy  wound 
up  his  clock  by  supplying  it  with  the  water  requisite  to  keep  it 
running  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  clock  answered  its  purpose 
so  well  that  the  family  habitually  repaired  to  it  to  ascertain  the 
time.  The  principal  defect  of  it  was  that  the  small  aperture 
through  which  the  water  dropped  was  liable  to  become  clogged 
by  the  impurities  of  the  fluid.  He  constructed  also  a  four- 
wheeled  carriage,  propelled  by  the  person  sitting  in  it.  To 
amuse  his  school-fellows,  he  made  very  ingenious  kites,  to  the 
tails  of  which  he  attached  lanterns  of  crimpled  paper,  which, 
being  lighted  by  a  candle  and  sent  up  in  the  evening,  alarmed 
the  rustics  of  the  parish.  Observing  the  shadows  of  the  sun, 
he  marked  the  hours  and  half-hours  by  driving  in  pegs  on  the 
side  of  the  house,  and,  at  length,  perfected  the  sun-dial  which 
is  still  shown.  Without  an  instructor,  he  learned  to  draw  so 
well  as  to  adorn  his  room  with  portraits  of  his  school-fellows 
and  teachers,  the  frames  of  which  were  very  elegantly  made  hy 
his  own  hand.  Besides  these,  he  drew  with  charcoal,  on  the 
wall  of  his  bedroom,  many  excellent  pictures  of  ships,  birds, 
beasts,  and  men,  which  were  shown  in  good  preservation  when 
he  was  an  old  man.  For  the  young  ladies  of  his  acquaintance 
he  was  never  "weary  of  making  little  tables,  chairs,  cupboards, 
dolls,  and  trinkets. 

At  fifteen,  his  mother,  being  again  a  widow,  with  three  chil- 
dren by  her  second  marriage  to  maintain,  Isaac  was  taken  from 
school  to  assist  her  in  the  management  of  her  farm.     But  nature 


248  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

claimed  liim  for  higher  work.  He  could  not  be  a  farmer.  Be- 
iiig  sent  to  market,  once  a  week,  with  an  aged  and  faithful  ser- 
vant, no  sooner  were  the  horses  put  into  the  stable  than  he  would 
shut  himself  up  in  a  garret  with  his  books,  till  the  produce  was 
sold  and  it  was  time  to  return.  In  summer,  he  would  choose  a 
shady  nook  on  the  road-side,  out  of  town,  and  there  await  the 
return  of  the  wagon.  If  he  was  sent  to  the  fields  to  watch  the 
sheep  and  cattle,  he  would  be  found,  hours  after,  perched  in  a 
tree,  absorbed  in  a  book,  or  on  the  banks  of  a  stream,  eagerly 
watching  the  operation  of  a  water-wheel;  while  the  cattle,  per- 
haps, were  rioting  in  a  corn-field,  and  the  sheep  were  wandering 
down  the  road.  On  the  day  of  Cromwell's  death,  when  New- 
ton was  sixteen,  a  great  storm  raged  all  over  England.  He  used 
to  say,  in  his  old  age,  that  on  that  day  he  made  his  first  purely 
scientific  experiment.  To  ascertain  the  force  of  the  wind,  he 
first  jumped  with  the  wind  and  then  against  it ;  and,  by  compar- 
ino-  these  distances  with  the  extent  of  his  own  jump  on  a  calm 
day,  he  was  enabled  to  compute  the  force  of  the  storm.  When 
the  wind  blew,  thereafter,  he  used  to  say  it  was  so  many  feet 
stronsr. 

Fortunately,  his  mother  did  not  seriously  need  his  services. 
She  discovered,  ere  long,  that  her  son  was  not  formed  by  nature 
for  the  labors  of  a  grazing  farm,  and  she  sent  him  back  to  school, 
with  some  view  of  his  ultimately  going  to  the  university.  At 
school  he  gave  himself  wholly  up  to  study.  A  clergyman  of 
the  neighborhood,  an  uncle  of  the  lad,  having  discovered  him 
one  day  under  a  hedge,  absorbed  in  the  solution  of  a  mathemat- 
ical problem,  strongly  advised  his  mother  to  give  him  a  univer- 
sit}^  education ;  and  accordingly,  in  due  time,  he  was  entered  as 
a  student  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  His  mother  was  un- 
al)le  to  defray  the  whole  expense  of  his  residence  there.  He 
was  therefore  entered  as  a  "sizar,"  —  a  class  of  students  who, 
by  performing  various  menial  services  for  their  college,  are 
enabled  to  earn  part  of  the  college  fees.  The  sizars  bring  from 
the  college  kitchen  or  store-room,  the  "  size,"  or  allowance  of 
food,  which  the  other  students  are  allowed  to  consume  in  their 
own  apartments.  The  service,  however,  is  little  more  than 
nominal,  and  does  not  interfere  with  their  studies :  the  only  in- 


SIK    ISAAC    NEWTOxV.  219 

convenience  attached  to  a  sizarship  is  that  it  reduces  a  student 
to  a  lower  social  caste,  and  subjects  him  to  the  slights  of  the 
more  vulgar  of  his  comrades. 

He  was  twenty  when  he  entered  college.  On  the  day  of  his 
leaving  school,  his  venerable  teacher  placed  him  on  the  plat- 
form, and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  pronounced  a  speech  in  his 
honor,  holding  him  up  to  the  assembled  pupils  as  a  worthy  ob- 
iect  of  their  love  and  imitation. 

lie  had  been  a  gentle,  affectionate,  ingenious,  and  thoughtful 
boy,  honored  by  his  instructors,  beloved  by  his  companions. 
Gentle  as  he  was,  we  have  seen  he  had  the  spirit  to  resent  and 
the  courage  to  punish  an  outrage,  with  nobleness  enough  not  to 
content  himself  with  a  mere  triumph  of  animal  strength. 

At  twenty  years  of  age,  wiien  Newton  entered  the  University 
of  Cambridge,  he  was  a  blooming,  handsome  young  man, 
ardent  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  but  not  averse  to  innocent 
gayety.  A  game  at  cards,  a  moderate  repast  at  the  tavern,  a 
ramble  in  the  country,  were  the  recreations  in  which  he  in- 
dulged. At  first,  too,  his  studies  were  little  more  than  amuse- 
ments, and  he  appears  to  have  pursued  his  own  course, 
untrammelled  by  college  regulations.  He  had  so  remarkable  a 
talent  for  mathematics,  that  Euclid's  Geometry  seemed  to  him 
"a  trifling  book,"  and  he  wondered  that  any  man  should  have 
taken  the  trouble  to  demonstrate  propositions  the  truth  of 
which  was  obvious  to  him  at  the  first  glance.  But,  on  attempt- 
ing to  read  the  more  abstruse  Geometry  of  Descartes,  without 
havinir  mastered  the  elements  of  the  science,  he  was  baffled, 
and  was  2flad  to  come  back  asrain  to  his  Euclid.  Mathematics 
and  chemistry  were  his  favorite  studies.  As  his  works  were 
written  in  the  Latin  laniruaofe,  he  must  have  devoted  much  time 
to  the  study  of  it ;  but  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he 
relished  the  beauties  of  ancient  literature.  He  probably  re- 
garded Latin  merely  as  the  means  .by  which  science  could  be 
conveniently  communicated  to  the  learned  men  of  Europe ;  for, 
at  that  time,  all  science  was  written  in  Latin. 

He  became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  study.  A  friend  dis- 
covered him  one  day  walking  in  the  college  grounds,  solitary 
and  dejected.     Upon  entering  into  conversation  with  him,  he 


250  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

learned  that  Newton  was  in  trouble  from  the  same  cause  aa 
hhnself, — the  riotous  conduct  of  his  room-mate.  They  agreed 
to  discard  their  noisy  companions  and  take  rooms  together. 
This  friend  records  that,  early  in  his  college  career,  Newton 
would  spend  a  whole  night  in  the  solution  of  a  mathematical 
problem,  and  would  greet  him  in  the  morning  with  a  joyful 
salutation,  seeming  to  be  as  much  refreshed  by  his  success  as 
if  he  had  spent  the  night  in  sleep.  He  would  leave  his  dinner 
untasted  on  the  table,  hour  after  hour,  while  he  brooded  over 
some  mathematical  difficulty,  and,  at  length,  order  the  dishes 
to  be  removed,  not  being  aware  that  he  had  had  no  dinner. 
Nature  will  not  suspend  her  laws  even  in  favor  of  her  most 
illustrious  interpreter.  The  bloom  foded  from  his  cheeks. 
His  digestion  became  impaired,  and  a  serious  illness  threatened 
his  life.  He  took  warning,  as  he  remarked,  and  "  learned  to  go 
to  bed  betimes." 

The  most  glorious  fact  in  the  history  of  the  University  of 
Cambridge  is,  that  she  cherished  this  greatest  of  her  students, 
and  gave  him  the  means  of  dedicating  his  life  to  study.  First 
a  scholarship,  then  a  minor-fellowship,  next  a  fellowship,  aided 
his  slender  resources ;  until,  in  his  twenty-seventh  year,  we  see 
him  permanently  established  at  the  university  as  a  professor 
of  mathematics.  His  duties  were  not  arduous.  He  lectured, 
now  and  then,  to  the  few  students  who  chose  to  hear  him ;  and 
it  is  recorded  that  very  frequently  he  came  to  the  lecture-room 
and  found  it  empty.  On  such  occasions  he  would  remain 
fifteen  minutes,  and  then,  if  no  one  came,  return  to  his  apart- 
ments. This  is  similar  to  the  experience  of  Edmund  Burke, 
one  of  the  greatest  orators  of  modern  times,  who  sometimes 
fatigued  and  emptied  the  House  of  Commons. 

Young  men,  it  has  been  often  remarked,  do  the  greatest 
things.  Newton  was  but  twenty-three  when  he  made  his 
greatest  discovery. 

In  the  autumn  of  1665,  the  college  having  been  dismissed  on 
account  of  the  prevalence  of  the  plague,  he  spent  several  weeks 
at  home.  Seated  in  his  mother's  orchard,  one  day,  while  the 
ripe  fruit  was  falling  from  the  trees,  he  fell  into  one  of  his 
profound  meditations  upon  the  nature  of  the  force  that  caus^^d 


SIR    ISAAC    NEWTON.  251 

the  apples  to  fall.  To  understand  the  course  of  his  reflections 
and  the  nature  of  their  result,  it  is  necessary  to  know  how  far 
the  science  of  astronomy  had  advanced  before  that  memorable 
afternoon. 

Until  about  the  time  of  the  discovery  of  America  all  man- 
kind supposed,  of  course,  that  the  sun  moved  round  the  earth. 
Copernicus,  one  of  the  greatest  men  that  ever  lived,  discovered 
and  proved,  after  thirty-six  years  of  stud}^  that  the  earth 
revolved  round  the  sun,  —  a  startling  and  splendid  discovery, 
upon  which  all  subsequent  astronomy  was  founded.  A  century 
later,  the  illustrious  Kepler  demonstrated  that  the  planets 
revolved  round  the  sun,  —  not  in  circular,  but  in  elliptical 
courses ;  and  Galileo,  who  was  the  first  to  use  the  telescope  in 
surveying  the  heavens,  discovered  that  Jupiter  and  other 
planets  had  moons.  Galileo  also  discovered  the  speed  of  fall- 
ing bodies,  and  the  precise  ratio  of  their  acceleration ;  how 
many  feet  they  fall  the  first  second,  and  how  many  the  second, 
etc.  He  likewise  made  valuable  discoveries  respecting  the  law 
of  attraction,  —  that  force  which  causes  large  bodies  to  attract 
small  ones,  and  which  binds  particles  of  matter  together. 

Bearing  these  things  in  mind,  we  shall  know  what  Newton 
meant  when,  w^ith  his  noble  modesty,  he  said :  — 

"  If  I  have  seen  farther  than  Descartes,  it  is  by  standing  on 
the  shoulders  of  giants." 

In  a  corporeal  sense,  he  was  seated  in  his  mother's  orchard, 
but  it  was  from  the  height  to  which  Copernicus  and  Galileo  had 
brought  the  science  of  astronomy  that  he  contemplated  the  fall 
of  the  apples.  The  grand  mystery  that  remained  to  be  eluci- 
dated was :  What  is  the  force  that  retains  the  planets  and  the 
moons  in  their  spheres  ?  Why  does  not  the  moon  fly  olT  into 
space  ?  Why  does  the  earth  approach  the  sun  and  never  singe 
its  beard,  and  recede  millions  of  miles  without  ever  failing  to 
turn  in  its  orbit  at  the  right  moment,  and  again  approach  the 
source  of  li2:ht  and  heat?  With  ^vhat  an  inconceivable  whirl 
the  earth  must  approach  the  bend  of  its  orbit !  But  never  does 
it  go  an  inch  beyond  its  accustomed  course. 

Those  apples,  dropping  slowly  from  the  trees,  and  flxlling  at 
a  speed  visibly  accelerating,  led  this  wonderful  being  to  the 


252  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

solution  of  the  mystery.  The  course  of  his  reflections  seems  to 
have  been  something  like  the  following :  — 

1 .  These  apples  fall  in  a  direct  line  toward  the  centre  of  the 
earth.  The  same  force  causes  a  cannon  ball  to  curve  toward 
the  same  point.  Everything  in  the  world  is  drawn  and  held 
by  it. 

2.  If  these  apples  fell  from  a  tree  a  half  a  mile  high,  they 
would  not  the  less  seek  the  earth's  centre,  and  the  law  of 
acceleration  w^ould  still  hold  good.  If  they  fell  from  the  top  of 
the  highest  mountain,  it  would  be  the  same. 

3.  Suppose  an  apple  should  fall  from  the  moon,  — then  what? 
It  appears  to  have  been  at  this  point  that  the  great  Cox- 

JECTUEE  occurred  to  his  mind :  Perhaps  the  same  force  that 
draws  the  apples  to  the  ground  holds  the  moon  in  its  orbit ! 
Now,  but  for  the  labors  of  the  giants  who  had  preceded  him, 
this  mighty  thought  would  have  remained  a  conjecture.  Those 
giants,  however,  had  learned  the  magnitude  of  the  moon,  its 
distance  from  the  earth,  and  the  force  of  the  earth's  attraction 
at  any  distance.  Newton  could,  therefore,  at  once  put  his  con- 
jecture to  the  test  of  arithmetic.  He  could  ascertain  two  things 
with  the  greatest  exactness  :  1.  How  much  force  was  required 
to  keep  the  moon  in  its  orbit;  and,  2.  With  how  much  force 
the  earth  did  attract  the  moon,  supposing  that  the  law  of  attrac- 
tion, as  established  by  Galileo,  held  good.  If  these  two  cal- 
culations agreed,  his  conjecture  was  a  discovery. 

He  tried  them.  They  did  not  agree.  Busy  with  other  m- 
vestigations,  he  laid  aside  this  inquiry  for  nineteen  years.  He 
then  learned  that  he,  in  common  with  all  the  English  astrono- 
mers, was  in  error  as  to  the  distance  of  the  moon  from  the 
earth.  This  error  being  corrected,  he  repeated  his  calculations. 
When  he  had  brought  them  so  near  to  a  conclusion  that  he  was 
all  but  sure  of  the  truth  of  his  theory,  he  became  so  agitated 
that  he  was  unable  to  go  on,  and  he  was  obliged  to  ask  a  friend 
to  complete  them.  When  tliey  were  brought  to  a  close,  he 
saw  that  his  youthful  thought  w^as  indeed  a  sublime,  dem- 
onstrated truth.  Thus  it  was  that  the  great  law  of  the 
attraction  of  gravitation  was  discovered, — the  most  brilliant 
and  valuable  discovery  ever  achieved  by  a  human  mind. 


SIK     ISAAC    NEWTON.  2J3 

The  applc-trc(b  iindcr  Avliich  the  philosopher  was  seated  in  his 
mother's  orehard  stood  until  the  year  1814,  when  it  was  blown 
down.  The  wood  of  it  was  preserved  and  made  into  various 
articles,  and  several  trees  still  exist  Avhich  were  raised  from  the 
seeds  of  its  fruit.  It  is  a  curious  circumstance  that  the  preser- 
vation of  the  apple  anecdote  is  chiefly  due  to  Voltaire,  who 
heard  it  in  1727,  from  the  lips  of  Madame  Conduit,  the  wife 
of  Newton's  nephew  and  heir. 

Newton  resided  at  the  University  of  Cambridge  for  thirty- 
three  years,  devoted  to  profound  researches  in  chemistry  and 
astronomy.  His  discoveries  in  the  nature  of  light  and  color  re- 
main to  this  day  the  accepted  system  in  all  countries.  He  was 
accustomed  to  make  his  apparatus  with  his  own  hands,  even  to 
bis  brick  furnaces  and  brass-work.  He  seemed  to  become,  at 
length,  all  mind,  spending  his  days  in  meditation,  insensible  to 
all  that  usually  interests  mankind.  Nevertheless,  he  was  pleas- 
ant and  amiable  in  his  demeanor,  and  exceedingly  bountiful  in 
gifts  to  his  dependents  and  relatives.  So  little  did  he  value  the 
glory  of  his  discoveries,  that  he  was  w^ith  difficulty  induced  to 
make  them  known  to  the  world,  having  a  mortal  dread  of  being 
drawn  into  controversy.  Some  of  his  most  brilliant  discoveries 
remained  unpublished  for  several  years.  And  when,  at  last,  his 
Principia  had  appeared,  which  contained  the  results  of  his 
studies,  he  had  to  be  much  persuaded  before  he  would  consent 
to  issue  a  second  edition. 

He  was  not,  however,  so  dead  to  the  world  as  to  be  unmind- 
ful of  his  duties  as  a  citizen  in  a  great  national  crisis.  When 
James  II.  was  endeavoring  to  render  England  a  Catholic  coun- 
try, Newton  exerted  himself  so  strenuously  against  it  that  the 
University  elected  him  to  Parliament,  in  which  he  sat  for 
eiorhteen  months,  a  silent  but  useful  member. 

At  the  age  of  fifty-three,  he  was  called  by  the  government  to 
an  office  in  the  Eoyal  Mint,  of  which  he  was  finally  appointed 
governor.  Transferred  to  London,  and  cnjo3'ing  a  handsom.e 
income,  he  now  lived  liberally,  kept  a  carriage,  and  entertained 
company.  The  duties  of  his  office  were  performed  l)y  him  with 
signal  aoility  and  purity.  He  was  offered,  on  one  occasion,  a 
bonus  of  six  thousand  pounds  for  a  contract  for  the  coinage  of 


254  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

copper  money.  Sir  Isaac  refused  the  offer  ou  the  ground  that 
it  was  a  bribe  in  disguise.  The  agent  argued  the  matter  with 
him  without  effect,  and  said,  at  length,  that  the  offer  came  from 
'^  a  great  duchess."     The  philosopher  roughly  replied,  — 

"I  desire  you  to  tell  the  lady  that  if  she  was  here  herself,  and 
had  made  me  this  offer,  I  would  have  desired  her  to  go  out  of 
my  house  ;  and  so  I  desire  you,  or  you  shall  be  turned  out." 

He  was  twice  in  love.  The  beautiful  daughter  of  a  physician, 
who  resided  near  his  school,  won  his  boyish  affections,  and  he 
paid  court  to  her  by  making  dolls  and  doll-furniture  for  her  and 
her  companions.  His  affection  was  returned  by  the  young  lady, 
and  nothing  prevented  their  early  marriage  but  Newton's  pov- 
erty. For  several  years  his  income  was  derived  from  a  college 
fellowship,  Vv'hich  would  cease  on  the  day  of  his  marriage  ;  and 
later,  when  he  was  appointed  professor,  his  income  was  still  in- 
sufficient to  maintain  a  family.  It  is  interesting  to  know,  that, 
during  the  ten  years  when  he  made  his  greatest  discoveries,  he 
was  so  poor,  that  the  two  shillings  a  week  which  he  paid  as  a 
member  of  the  Eoyal  Society  was  a  serious  burthen  to  him,  and 
some  of  his  friends  washed  to  get  him  excused  from  the  pay- 
ment.    But  this  he  would  not  permit. 

His  poverty  was  doubtless  one  of  the  reasons  why  he  made 
and  repaired  his  brick  furnaces  and  all  his  apparatus,  without 
calling  in  the  aid  of  workmen.  When,  at  length,  he  was  in  bet- 
ter circumstances,  the  object  of  his  youthful  love  was  married, 
and  he  himself  was  wedded  to  science.  Never,  however,  did  he 
return  to  the  home  of  his  fathers  without  visiting  the  lady ;  and 
when  both  had  reached  fourscore  he  had  the  pleasure  of  relieving 
the  necessities  of  her  old  age. 

He  appeared  to  have  thought  no  more  of  love  or  marriage  till 
he  was  sixty.  Kich  and  famous  then,  he  aspired  to  the  hand  of 
Lady  Norris,  the  widow  of  a  baronet,  and  he  wrote  her  a  quaini 
and  curious  love-letter.  He  began  by  remonstrating  with  her 
upon  her  excessive  grief  for  the  loss  of  her  husband,  telling  her, 
that  "  to  be  always  thinking  on  the  dead  is  to  live  a  melancholy 
life  among  sepulchres."  He  asks  her  if  she  can  resolve  to  spend 
the  rest  of  her  days  in  giief  and  sickness,  and  wear  forever  a 
widow's  weeds,  a  costume  "less  acceptable  to  company,"  and 


SIR    ISAAC    NEWTON.  O-;-; 

keeping  her  always  in  mind  of  licr  loss.  "  The  proper  remedy 
for  all  these  griefs  and  mischiefs,"  he  adds,  "is  a  new  hus])and," 
whose  estate,  added  to  her  own,  would  enable  her  to  live  more 
at  ease.  He  says  in  conclusion  :  "I  doubt  not,  ])ut  in  a  little 
time,  to  have  notice  of  your  ladyship's  inclinations  to  marry  ;  at 
least  that  you  will  give  me  leave  to  discourse  with  you  about  it." 

The  lady's  answer  has  not  been  preserved ;  but  as  the  mar- 
riage never  took  place,  we  may  presume  that  the  great  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  had  to  figure  in  the  character  of  a  rejected  lover.  The 
experiments  of  the  greatest  philosophers  do  not  always  succeed. 

He  was,  nevertheless,  a  grand  and  nol:>le-looking  gentleman 
at  sixty.  His  more  active  life  in  London  had  given  fulness  to 
his  countenance  and  figure ;  and,  though  at  thirty  his  hair  began 
to  turn  gray,  and  at  sixty  was  as  white  as  silver,  the  long  curl- 
ing wig,  then  in  fashion,  concealed  his  gray  locks,  and  added 
something  of  majesty  to  his  aspect.  His  later  portraits  show 
that  he  had  lost  the  look  of  the  student,  and  assumed  the  appear- 
ance and  bearing  of  a  gentleman  of  the  great  world. 

AYe  have  the  evidence  that,  both  at  school  and  at  college, 
Kewton  loved  the  pleasures  natural  to  youth.  Two  of  his  school- 
boy memorandum  books  were  preserved,  kept  when  he  was  sev- 
enteen, which  contain  entries  of  his  expenses.  From  these  we 
learn  that  he  indulged,  occasionally,  in  cherries,  tarts,  bottled 
beer,  custards,  cake,  milk,  and  similar  dainties.  AYe  notice  also 
that  he  was  a  prodigious  lender  of  money.  On  one  page  of  a 
memorandum-book  he  enters  fourteen  loans,  varying  in  amount 
from  a  few  pence  to  a  pound.  We  have  one  of  his  college 
memonmdum-books,  of  his  twenty-third  year,  which  is  highly 
interesting.  The  following  are  some  of  the  entries:  "Drills, 
gravers,  a  hone,  a  hammer,  and  a  mandril,  5s.  ;"  "a  magnet, 
16s.;"  "compasses,  2s.;"  "glass  bubbles,  4s.;"  "at  the  tav- 
ern several  other  times,  £1 ;"  "spent  on  my  cousin,  12s.  ;"  "on 
other  acquaintance,  10s.;''  "Philosophical  Intelligences,  9s. 
6d.  ;  "  "lost  at  cards  twice,  15s. ;  "  "at  the  tavern  twice,  3s. 
6d.  ;"  "to  three  prisms,  £3  ;  "  "four  ounces  of  putty.  Is.  4d.  ;" 
"Bacon's  Miscellanies,  Is.  6d.  ;"  "a  bible  binding,  3s.;"  "for 
oranges  to  my  sister,  4s.  2d. ;"  "for  aquafortis,  sublimate,  oylo 


256  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

pink,  fine  silver,  antimony,  vinegcar,  spirit  of  wine,  white  lead, 
salt  of  tartar,  £2  ;"  "Theatrnm  chemicum,  £1  8s." 

He  was  always  a  very  exact  man  in  pecuniary  matters,  ab- 
horring debt,  and,  though  bountifully  liberal  in  gifts,  strict  in 
requiring  from  others  the  performance  of  their  engagements. 
He  was  not  a  man  to  be  imposed  upon.  If  a  tenant  did  not 
keep  his  farm  in  the  stipulated  repair,  Sir  Isaac  was  after  him 
with  a  sharp  reminder.  And,  though  he  cared  little  for  the 
credit  of  his  discoveries,  he  was  much  offended  if  any  one  at- 
tempted to  rob  him  of  that  credit  and  confer  it  upon  another. 
His  sense  of  justice,  as  a  man,  was  offended  at  such  conduct 
more  than  his  pride,  as  a  philosopher. 

Who  would  have  thought  to  find  Newton  an  alchemist?  It  is 
a  fact,  that  for  several  years  this  great  man  was  intensely  occu- 
pied in  endeavoring  to  discover  a  way  of  changing  the  baser 
metals  into  gold.  This  is,  perhaps,  the  reason  why  he  added 
little  to  our  knowledge  of  chemistry,  though  he  seems  to  have 
labored  at  this  science  a  longer  time  and  with  more  pleasure 
than  at  any  other.  Being  in  pursuit  of  a  chimera,  he  lost  his 
time.  There  were  periods  when  his  furnace  fires  were  not  al- 
lowed to  go  out  for  six  weeks ;  he  and  his  secretary  sitting  up 
alternate  nights  to  replenish  them.  This  is  recorded  by  the 
secretary  himself,  who  had  not  the  least  notion  of  the  object  of 
his  master's  experiments. 

His  most  intimate  friend  at  the  university  was  a  foreign 
chemist  of  much  note  and  skill.  Newton  enjoyed  his  conver- 
sation exceedingl}^  until,  one  day,  the  Italian  told  him  "  a  loose 
story  of  a  nun,"  which  so  much  offended  his  sense  of  decency 
that  he  would  never  associate  with  him  again. 

The  gentleman  who  served  him  five  years  as  secretary,  relates 
that  in  all  that  time  he  never  saw  him  laugh  but  once.  Newton 
had  lent  a  copy  of  Euclid's  Geometry  to  a  friend,  and,  meeting 
him  some  time  after,  he  asked  him  what  progress  he  had  made 
in  the  work,  and  how  he  liked  it.  His  friend  replied  by  asking 
of  what  use  such  a  study  as  that  would  be  to  him  in  life  ;  "upon 
which  Sir  Isaac  was  very  merry." 

Several  anecdotes  are  preserved  of  his  absence  of  mind.  On 
one  occasion,  when  he  was  giving  a  dinner  to  some  friends  at 


SIR    ISAAC    NEWTON.  257 

the  university,  he  left  the  table  to  get  them  a  bottle  of  ^vine ; 
but,  on  his  way  to  the  cclhir,  he  fell  into  reflection,  forgot  his 
errand  and  his  company,  went  to  his  chamber,  put  on  his  sur- 
plice, and  proceeded  to  the   chapel.     Sometimes  he  would  go 
into  the  street  half  dressed,  and,  on  discovering  his  condition, 
run  back  in  great  haste,  much  abashed.     Often,  while  strolling 
in  his  garden,  he  would  suddenly  stop,  and  then  run  rapidly  to 
his  room,  and  begin  to  write,  standing,  on  the  first  piece  of  pa- 
per that  presented  itself.     Intending  to  dine  in  the  public  hall, 
he  would  go  out  in  a  brown  stud}^  take  the  wrong  turn,  walk 
awhile,  and  then  return  to  his  room,  having  totally  forgotten  the 
dinner.    Once  having  dismounted  from  his  horse  to  lead  him  up 
a  hill,  the  horse  slipped  his  head  out  of  the  bridle  ;  but  Newton, 
oblivious,  never  discovered  it,  till,  on  reaching  a  toll-gate  at  the 
top  of  the  hill,  he  turned  to  remount,  he  perceived  that  the 
bridle  which  he  held  in  his  hand  had  no  horse  attached  to  it. 
His  secretary  records  that  his  forgetfulness  of  his  dinner  was  an 
excellent  thing  for  his  old  house-keeper,  who  "  sometimes  found 
both  dinner  and  supper  scarcely  tasted  of,  which  the  old  woman 
has  very  pleasantly  and  mumpingly  gone  away  with."     On  get- 
tins:  out  of  bed  in  the  mornin^:,  he  has  been  observed  to  sit  on 
his   bed-side  for  hours,  without  dressing  himself,  utterly  ab- 
sorbed in  thought. 

BufFon  said :  Genius  is  patience.  Stephenson,  the  inventor 
of  the  locomotive,  declared  that  he  surpassed  the  majority  of 
mankind  only  in  patience.  Newton  also  ascribed  his  success  in 
interpreting  nature  solely  to  his  patience.  Being  asked,  one 
day,  how  he  had  discovered  the  law  of  gravitation,  he  replied  :  — 

"By  incessantly  thinking  about  it." 

Airain,  on  beinc^  told  that  he  had  discovered  so  much  that 
nothing  remained  to  be  discovered  by  others,  he  said  : — 

"  Beat  the  bushes  well  and  you  will  start  plenty  of  game." 

A  short  time  before  his  death,  he  made  that  sublime  observa- 
tion which  has  been  so  often  quoted  :  — 

'*I  do  not  know  what  I  may  appear  to  the  world,  but  to  my- 
self I  seem  to  have  been  only  like  a  boy  playing  on  the  seashore, 
and  diverting  myself  in  now  and  then  finding  a  prettier  shell 

17 


258  PEOPLE'S    BOOK      OF      BIOGRAPHY. 

than  ordinary,  whilst  the  great  ocean  of  truth  lay  all  undiscov- 
ered before  mc." 

It  is  related  that,  entertaining  at  dinner  in  London  the  French 
ambassador,  when  some  of  the  English  guests  were  in  doubt 
which  ought  to  be  toasted  first,  the  King  of  England  or  the 
King  of  France,  Sir  Isaac  solved  the  difficulty  thus  ;  — 

^'Let  us  drink,"  said  he,  "the  health  of  all  honest  persons,  to 
whatever  country  they  belong.  "VYe  are  all  friends,  because  we 
unanimously  aim  at  the  only  object  w^orthy  of  man,  which  is  the 
knowledge  of  truth.  We  are  all  also  of  the  same  religion, 
since,  leading  a  simple  life,  we  conform  ourselves  to  what  is 
right,  and  we  endeavor  sincerely  to  give  to  the  Supreme  Being 
that  worship,  which,  according  to  our  feeble  lights,  we  are  per- 
suaded will  please  him  most." 

In  the  days  of  his  poverty  at  the  university,  he  was  often 
urged  to  increase  his  income  by  taking  orders  in  the  church. 
He  steadily  refused,  on  the  ground  that  his  religious  opinions 
were  not  in  conformity  with  those  of  the  Church  of  England. 
He  was  a  Unitarian.  He  expressly  says,  in  his  articles  of  re- 
ligious belief,  that  worship  should  be  addressed  only  to  God, 
the  Father.  If  he  had  lived  in  our  day,  we  should  style  him  a 
Unitarian  of  the  Channing  and  Everett  school. 

In  1789,  wdien  the  news  reached  him  that  his  mother  w^as 
dangerously  ill  of  a  malignant  fever,  he  abandoned  his  studies 
and  hurried  home  to  attend  her.  He  sat  up  with  her  night  after 
night,  administering  her  medicines  with  his  own  hands,  and 
dressed  her  blisters  with  admirable  tenderness  and  dexterity. 
She  sunk  under  the  disease,  despite  his  skill  and  care. 

The  story  of  his  dog  Diamond  throwing  down  a  lighted  can* 
die  among  his  papers,  b}^  which  the  labors  of  years  were 
consumed,  and  of  Newton's  calmly  saying,  "O  Diamond, 
Diamond !  thou  little  knowest  the  mischief  thou  hast  done,"  is 
not  true.  The  candle  was  left  by  his  own  carelessness  in  such 
a  position,  that  it  set  fire  to  the  papers  without  the  intervention 
of  a  dog,  an  animal  he  never  kept.  Nor  did  he  contemplate  his 
loss  with  the  slightest  approach  to  philosophic  calmness.  On 
the  contrary,  it  almost  drove  him  out  of  his  senses,  and  it  was 
a  month  before  he  had  regained  his  tranquillity.    The  story,  also, 


SIR    ISAAC    NEWTON.  250 

of  his  using  his  wife's  finger,  in  a  fit  of  absence  of  mind,  to  press 
down  the  tobacco  in  his  pipe,  is  liable  to  two  slight  objections  : 
1.  lie  never  hud  a  wife.  2.  He  never  smoked.  Beiiiir  once 
asked  why  he  never  smoked  or  took  snuff,  he  answered  ;  — 

''I  will  not  make  to  myself  any  necessities." 

Gentle  as  his  temper  usually  was,  he  was  capable  of  honest 
anger.  Being  accused  one  day  of  having  robbed  another  astron- 
omer of  the  credit  of  his  researches,  he  flew  into  a  downright 
passion,  and  called  his  impudent  accuser  many  hard  names, 
"puppy  being  the  most  innocent  of  them." 

His  salary,  as  Master  of  the  Llint,  Avas  a  thousand  pounds  a 
year,  or  five  thousand  dollars,  —  a  very  handsome  income  for 
that  day.  Before  his  death  he  gave  away  tw^o  considerable 
landed  estates  to  poor  relations,  and  his  whole  life  was  strewu 
with  benefactions.  But,  owing  to  his  excellent  management  of 
his  affairs,  he  died  worth  thirty-two  thousand  pounds,  equal  to 
three  or  four  times  that  sum  in  the  present  currency  of  England. 
It  was  all  divided  by  will  among  his  relations  and  dependants. 
The  British  government  marked  its  respect  for  his  memory  by 
bestowing  his  office  in  the  mint  upon  his  nephew. 

The  final  biography  of  this  illustrious  man  remains  to  be 
written.  The  Life  of  Newton,  by  Sir  David  Bre waster,  is  a 
chaos  which  serves  rather  to  conceal  than  to  exhibit  the  cfreat- 
ness  of  his  understanding,  and  the  childlike  loveliness  of  his 
character.  Carlyle  had  been  better  employed  on  such  a  subject 
than  in  laboriously  distilling  the  court  gossip  of  Prussia. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton  died  March  20th,  1727,  in  the  eighty-fifth 
year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  with  all 
the  pomp  and  ceremony  due  to  the  remains  of  the  most  eminent 
philosopher  of  his  time.  The  monument  erected  to  his  memory 
in  the  abbey  bears  an  inscription  in  Latin,  of  which  the  following 
is  a  translation  :  — 

Here  lies 

Sm  Isaac  Newtox,  Knight, 

Who,  by  a  vigor  of  mind  almost  supernatural, 

First  demonstrated 

The  motions  and  figures  of  the  planets, 

The  paths  of  the  comets,  and  the  tides  of  the  ocean. 


9,(\0  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGEAPHY. 

He  diligently  investigated 

The  different  refrangibilities  of  the  rays  of  light, 

And  the  properties  of  the  colors  to  which  they  give  rise. 

An  assiduous,  sagacious,  and  faithful  interpreter 

Of  Nature,  Antiquity,  and  the  Holy  Scriptures, 

He  asserted  in  his  philosophy  the  majesty  of  God, 

And  exhibited  in  his  conduct  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel, 

Let  mortals  rejoice 

That  there  has  existed  such  and  so  great 

An  ornament  of  the  human  race. 

Bom  25th  Dec,  1642.        Died  20th  March,  1727. 


GALILEO.  I'Gl 


GALILEO. 


-♦o*- 


Of  late  years,  editors,  hard  pushed  for  a  comment  on  pass-mg 
events,  have  fallen  into  the  practice  of  saying,  "The  world 
moves."     I  propose  to  relate  the  origin  of  the  saying. 

In  the  winter  of  1633,  a  venerable  man,  enfeebled  by  disease 
and  borne  down  by  the  weight  of  sixty-nine  years,  was  travel- 
ling from  Florence  to  Rome,  a  toilsome,  horseback  journey  of 
a  hundred  and  forty-six  miles.  He  had  been  summoned  from 
his  home  in  this  inclemment  season  by  that  dread  tribunal,  the 
Inquisition,  whose  displeasure  he  had  provoked.  The  Inquisi- 
tion was  then  in  the  plenitude  of  its  power.  In  uo  land  that 
acknowledged  the  papal  supremacy  was  there  any  escape  from 
its  omnipresent  eye,  and  its  omnipotent  arm ;  for  it  wielded,  at 
once,  all  the  spiritual  authority  of  the  church  and  all  the  tem- 
poral power  of  the  state. 

It  was  the  great  Galileo  who  was  journeying  toward  Rome 
to  submit  to  the  questionings  of  the  Inquisition.  His  offence 
was  that  he  knew  more  than  the  doctors  of  the  Inquisition 
knew.  He  had  spent  his  life  in  the  laborious  study  of  nature. 
The  son  of  a  poor  Italian  musician,  he  had  exhibited  in  his 
youth  that  aptitude  for  mechanics  which  we  observe  in  the 
boyhood  of  Newton,  as  well  as  a  passionate  love  of  litera- 
ture and  music  which  Newton  never  possessed.  His  father,  be- 
sides being  poor,  had  a  family  of  six  children  to  maintain,  and 
could  therefore  afford  his  son  very  little  aid  in  his  studies. 
Galileo,  however,  made  up  in  zeal  and  diligence  what  he  lacked 
in  advantages.  Besides  mastering  the  Latin  authors,  he  be- 
came really  proficient  in  drawing,  and  learned  to  play  on  several 
instruments  with  so  much  facility  and  taste,  that  he  was  urged 
to  devote  his  life  to  music.     At  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  showed 


262  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGPvAPIIY. 

SO  many  and  such  remarkable  proofs  of  genius,  that  his  fathei 
tleterminecl,  at  all  hazards,  to  give  him  a  university  education, 
and  he  was  accordingly  entered  as  a  student  of  medicine  at  the 
University  of  Pisa.  But  he  was  not  destined  to  he  a  ph^'sician. 
Full  of  curiosity  upon  all  subjects,  and,  finally,  ftiscinated  by 
the  study  of  mathematics,  he  won  so  much  distinction  as  to  be 
appointed  professor  of  mathematics  at  Pisa  before  he  had  com- 
pleted his  twenty-fifth  year. 

He  had  scarcely  entered  the  university  before  he  made  one 
of  his  most  important  inventions.  As  the  fall  of  apples  from  a 
tree  led  Xewton  to  the  theory  of  gravitation,  so  the  slow  and 
imiform  sw^inging  of  a  lamp,  suspended  from  the  roof  of  the  Pisa 
cathedral,  suggested  to  Galileo  the  idea  of  the  pendulum  as  a 
measurer  of  time  and  as  a  motive-power  of  clocks.  It  w^as  fifty 
years  later,  however,  before  he  actually  constructed  a  pendu- 
lum clock.  "We  cannot,  of  course,  dwell  upon  the  details  of 
the  career  of  this  great  man.  He  had  but  two  objects  in  his 
life :  to  acquire  knowledge,  and  to  communicate  knowledge. 
Never  has  there  been  a  more  earnest  student  or  a  more  success- 
ful teacher.  For  his  pupils  he  wrote  many  excellent  treatises 
upon  science  far  in  advance  of  his  age.  For  the  state  he  con- 
structed several  machines  of  public  utility.  Pie  invented  the 
thermometer  and  improved  the  compass.  Hearing  one  day,  by 
chance,  that  some  one  in  Holland  had  invented  a  contrivance  b}^ 
which  distant  objects  could  be  seen  as  though  they  were  near, 
he  entered  upon  a  course  of  experiments  w^hich,  in  a  few  days, 
resulted  in  the  construction  of  a  telescope.  At  once  he  began 
to  use  the  new  instrument  in  the  study  of  the  heavens.  To  his 
boundless  wonder  and  delight,  he  discovered  that  the  moon, 
like  the  earth,  had  her  mountains  and  her  valleys ;  that  the 
planet  elupiter  went  his  round  accompanied  by  four  moons ;  that 
the  milky  way  was  composed  of  innumerable  stars ;  and  that 
there  were  spots  upon  the  sun. 

It  had  been  well  for  Galileo  if  he  had  had  a  little  of  the  cau- 
tion and  management  of  Copernicus,  w^ho,  a  century  before,  had 
demolished  the  ancient  astronomy  without  drawing  down  upon 
himself  or  his  book  the  thunders  of  Rome.  Galileo  was  a 
bolder  man.     Overjoyed  at  his  discoveries,  he  hastened  to  pub- 


GALILEO.  Iif33 

lisli  them  to  the  world,  and  lliiis  called  attention  anew  to  the 
great  truths,  demonstrated  by  Copernicus,  tliJit  the  sun  is  the 
centre  of  our  sjstem,  and  that  around  him  all  the  planets  re- 
volve. The  Inquisition  awoke  to  the  importance  of  these  here- 
sies, denounced  the  Copernican  system  as  contrary  to  Scripture, 
and  summoned  Galileo  to  Rome  to  answer  for  the  crime  of 
supporting  it. 

Arriving  in  Rome  on  the  lOth  of  February,  1633,  he  was  at 
once  placed  under  arrest  in  the  palace  of  an  ambassador,  and,  a 
few  days  after,  he  appeared  before  an  assembly  of  cardinals  and 
inquisitors,  where  he  was  permitted  to  speak  in  his  defence. 
He  began  to  demonstrate  the  truth  of  the  Copernican  sj^stem, 
as  he  had  been  wont  to  do  at  the  university.  His  accusers, 
ignorant  of  all  science,  could  not  comprehend  his  reasoning. 
Then  he  endeavored  to  explain  himself  in  simpler  language,  and 
strove  with  all  liis  powers  to  get  a  notion  of  the  true  astronomy 
into  those  obtuse  and  obstinate  minds.  "But,  unfortunately  for 
me,"  he  says,  in  one  of  his  letters,  "my  proofs  were  not  appre- 
hended, and,  notwithstanding  all  the  pains  I  took,  I  could  not 
succeed  in  making  myself  understood."  They  broke  in  upon 
bis  ariruments  with  loud  outcries,  accusins:  him  of  brinirins 
scandal  npon  the  church,  and  repeating,  over  and  over,  the 
passage  of  the  Bible  which  declares  that  Joshua  commanded  the 
sun  and  moon  to  stand  still,  and  they  obeyed  him. 

In  vain  Galileo  reminded  them  that  the  Bible  also  savs  that 
the  heavens  are  solid  and  are  polished  like  a  mirror  of  brass. 
In  vain  he  pointed  out  that  the  language  of  the  Bible  is  invari- 
ably conformed  to  the  state  of  science  at  the  time  when  it  was 
written.  The  assembled  priests  only  shrugged  their  shoulders 
at  his  reasoning,  or  interrupted  him  with  derisive  and  con- 
temptuous  shouts. 

For  seven  weeks  longer  he  remained  at  Home,  under  arrest, 
awaiting  the  sentence  of  the  Inquisition.  On  the  22d  of  June 
he  was  again  brought  before  the  tribunal,  to  hear  his  doom. 
He  was  pronounced  guilty  of  heres}^  in  maintaining,  contrary  to 
the  express  declarations  of  Scripture,  that  the  sun  did  not  move 
from  east  to  west,  as  it  seemed  to  do,  and  that  the  earth,  which 
appeared  motionless,  did  move  round  the  sun.     It  was  further 


264:      PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

declared  in  his  sentence,  that  the  holding  of  such  opinions  had 
rendered  him  liable  to  the  penalty  of  death  by  burning.  "  From 
which,"  continued  the  sentence,  "it  is  our  pleasure  that  you  be 
absolved,  provided  that,  first,  with  a  sincere  heart  and  unfeigned 
faith,  in  our  presence,  j^ou  abjure,  curse,  and  detest  the  said 
errors  and  heresies."  Nevertheless,  even  in  that  case,  he  was 
sentenced  to  be  imprisoned  during  the  pleasure  of  the  court, 
and  to  recite  once  a  week,  for  three  years,  the  seven  penitential 
psalms. 

Galileo  was  thus  compelled  to  choose  between  a  solemn  de- 
nial of  demonstrated  truth  or  the  most  asronizino:  of  deaths. 
What  he  ought  to  have  done  in  these  circumstances  is  a  ques- 
tion in  morals  which  has  been  discussed  for  two  hundred  years 
without  result ;  since  it  is  a  question  which  every  one  decides 
according  to  his  own  character.  He  decided  to  recant.  On 
his  knees,  with  one  hand  upon  the  Gospel,  he  pronounced  the 
form  of  words  required  :  "I  abjure,  curse,  and  detest  the  error 
and  heresy  of  the  motion  of  the  earth,  and  promise  that  I  will 
never  more  teach,  verbally  or  in  writing,  that  the  sun  is  the 
centre  of  the  universe,  and  immovable,  and  that  the  earth  is 
not  the  centre  of  the  universe  and  movable." 

Eising  from  his  knees,  indignant  at  the  outrage  done  to  truth 
through  him,  he  muttered  between  his  teeth  the  words,  which 
will  never  be  forgotten  :  — 

"the   earth  MOVES,    NOTWITHSTANDING!" 

After  his  recantation,  he  was  confined  for  seven  months  in  a 
spacious  house  in  Rome,  and  he  was  allowed  to  walk  at  will  in 
its  extensive  gardens.  He  was  then  permitted  to  return  to  the 
neighborhood  of  Florence,  under  the  surveillance  of  the  Inqui- 
sition, and  to  visit  the  city  when  his  infirmities  permitted. 

These  events  saddened  his  old  age,  but  he  continued  to  labor 
at  his  favorite  pursuits  with  unabated  ardor.  He  wrote  a 
treatise  on  the  motion  and  resistance  of  solid  bodies,  but,  fearing 
to  encounter  new  persecutions,  he  only  thought  to  have  the  manu- 
script preserved  from  destruction.  Confounded  and  afilicted," 
he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "at  the  bad  success  of  my  other  works, 
and  having  resolved  to  publish  nothing  more,  I  have  wished  at 


GALILEO.  265 

least  to  place  in  sure  hands  some  copy  of  my  works  ;  and  as  the 
particular  affection  with  which  you  have  honored  me  will  cer- 
tainly make  you  desirous  to  preserve  them,  I  have  chosen  to 
confide  these  to  3'ou."  It  was  this  very  work  which  enabled 
Newton  to  deduce  the  attraction  of  gravitation  from  the  fall  of 
the  apples. 

He  lived  nine  years  after  his  recantation,  surrounded  by 
affectionate  pupils  and  admiring  disciples.  Such  was  his  devo- 
tion to  the  study  of  astronomy,  that,  at  the  age  of  seventy -four, 
he  became  totally  blind.  He  survived  the  loss  of  sight  four 
years,  and  died  January  9,  1642,  aged  seventy-eight.  On 
Christmas  day  of  the  same  year  was  born  the  illustrious  Newton, 
who,  inheriting  the  great  discoveries  of  Galileo,  added  to  them 
the  crowning  truth  that  the  principle  of  attraction  is  not  con- 
fined in  its  operation  to  the  earth,  but  controls  the  universe. 

Galileo  was  remarkable  for  the  variety  of  his  knowledge. 
His  Latin  style  was  so  pure  and  elegant  that  Hume  ranks  his 
writings  Avith  the  classics  of  antiquity ;  and  he  was  so  fond  of 
Italian  poetry  that  he'could  repeat  the  whole  of  Ariosto's  longest 
poem.  One  of  his  favorite  amusements,  all  his  life,  was  playing 
upon  the  lute,  in  which  he  excelled  most  amateurs.  He  took 
great  pleasure  in  cultivating  a  garden.  His  manners  were  ex- 
ceedingly amiable,  and  his  conversation  full  of  vivacity  and 
grace.  Like  Newton,  he  was  never  married;  but,  unlike  New- 
ton, he  left  a  son  and  two  daughters.  After  his  death,  both  of 
his  daughters  entered  a  convent  and  took  the  veil.  He  was 
buried  in  one  of  the  churches  of  Florence,  where,  a  century 
later,  a  costly  and  imposing  monument  was  erected  over  his 
remains.  The  complete  edition  of  his  works,  published  at 
Milan  in  1811,  is  in  eleven  volumes  octavo. 


266  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


VASCO   DA   GAMA. 


Vasco  da  Gama  ranks  next  to  Columbus  among  the  great 
discoverers  of  his  time.  It  was  he  who  first  sailed  from  Europe 
to  the  East  Indies,  and  thus  opened  the  way  for  that  lucrative 
commerce  which  has  enriched,  by  turns,  several  nations.  Al- 
though this  achievement  was  inferior  in  importance  to  the  dis- 
covery of  a  new  continent,  it  was  more  difficult,  and  demanded 
for  its  accomplishment  far  more  resolution  and  courage  than 
Columbus  ever  displayed.  In  two  months  and  eight  da^^s  after 
leaving  Spain,  Columbus  saw  land,  and  had  accomplished  his 
great  v/ork.  Ten  months  and  nine  days  elapsed,  full  of  strange 
perils  and  difficulties,  before  Yasco  da  Gama  reached  the  shores 
of  India. 

Bartholomew  Dias  in  1487  had  discovered  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  and  sailed  a  short  distance  around  it  along  the  eastern 
coast  of  Africa.  Compelled  to  return  by  the  murmurs  of  his 
crew,  Dias  would  have  probably  renewed  his  endeavors,  but  for 
the  death,  soon  after,  of  the  King  of  Portugal,  his  master.  Ten 
years  rolled  away  before  Portugal  was  prepared  to  send  forth  a 
new  expedition,  during  which  the  mighty  exploit  of  Columbus 
had  filled  the  world  with  his  renown,  and  given  a  new  impulse 
to  the  enthusiasm  for  discovery.  In  1497,  Manuel,  King  of 
Portu2:al,  an  able  and  enlis^htened  monarch,  resolved  to  make 
another  attempt  to  reach  India  by  sea. 

Never  was  an  expedition  more  carefully  equipped  than  this. 
Four  vessels  were  built  for  the  purpose  in  the  strongest  possible 
manner,  the  largest  of  which  was  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
tons  burthen,  and  the  others  of  one  hundred  tons  each,  or  less. 
Each  ship  was  provided  with  three  sets  of  sails,  fastenings,  and 
cordage,  and  the  very  wine-barrels  and  oil-barrels,  say  the  old 


VASCO    DA    GAMA.  2G7 

chroniclers,  were  Ijouiul  witli  tlircc  times  as  inaii}^  iron  hoops  as 
usual.  The  ships  were  packed  full  of  provisions  and  anununi- 
tion,  and  the}'  were  armed  Avith  the  best  artillery  that  could  then 
be  made.  The  seaport  towns  of  Portugal  were  searched  for  the 
best  sailors  and  pilots.  One  hundred  and  sixty  picked  men 
composed  the  crew  of  the  fleet. 

But  no  matter  what  pains  may  be  taken  in  the  preparation  of 
a  difficult  enterprise,  its  success  usually  depends  absolutely  upon 
the  man  who  commands  it.  King  jNIanuel,  says  a  Portuguese 
historian,  Avas  sitting  one  clay  at:  a  window  of  his  palace,  which 
overlooked  a  court-yard,  lost  in  thought  upon  this  expedition, 
which  was  still  without  a  commander.  It  so  chanced  that  Vasco 
da  Gama,  an  officer  in  the  king's  household,  who  had  sailed 
often  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  crossed  the  court-yard  in  view  of 
the  thouHitful  monarch. 

"That  is  the  man,"  said  the  king. 

And  that  ivas  the  man.  He  was  one  of  those  stick-at-nothing 
people  who,  fixing  their  minds  upon  their  object,  and  shutting 
their  eyes  to  all  things  else,  push  forward  urelentiugly,  and 
trample  down  all  that  opposes  them.  The  king  knew  him  well 
cnouiih  to  be  sure  that  no  clamors  of  a  disheartened  crew,  and 
no  other  obstacle  capable  of  being  overcome  by  human  resolu- 
tion, would  stop  Yasco  da  Gama  until  he  had  reached  his  goal. 

July  the  8th,  1497,  the  fleet  set  sail.  A  little  chapel  was 
afterwards  built  to  mark  the  spot  last  trodden  by  these  brave 
seamen,  and  this  humble  edifice  was  subsequently  replaced  by  a 
mairnificent  convent,  which  still  stands. 

Touchins:  at  the  Portus^uese  islands  on  the  coast  of  Africa, 
separated  sometimes  by  fogs,  damaged  by  storms,  drenched  by 
fierce,  continual  rains,  the  fleet  made  its  way,  in  three  months 
and  twenty-six  days,  to  a  little  bay  called  the  Bay  of  St.  Helena, 
near  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  There  Gama  and  his  men  went 
on  shore,  to  see  if  they  could  get  some  information  of  the  na- 
tives as  to  where  they  were,  and  which  way  they  were  to  go. 
They  found  a  race  of  men  very  ignorant  and  savage,  from  whom 
nothing:  valuable  could  be  learned.  Gama  treated  them  hand- 
somely,  but  one  of  his  men  happening  to  stray  off  alone,  they 
seized  him  and  would  not  give  him  up.     Gama  attacked  them. 


268  PEOPLE'S     BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

They  biu'led  upon  the  Portuguese  a  shower  of  stoues  and  jave- 
lins, and  it  was  not  until  Gama  himself  and  four  of  his  crew 
were  wounded,  that  they  succeeded  in  rescuing  the  imprudent 
sailor. 

This  was  only  a  beginning  of  trouble.  After  an  eight  days' 
stay  in  the  Bay  of  St.  Helena,  Gama  resumed  his  voyage,  and 
was  soon  buffeting  the  storms  that  rage,  almost  without  ceasing, 
at  that  season,  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  The  further  they 
advanced,  the  more  fierce  was  the  tempest,  and  at  length  the 
courage  of  many  of  the  crew  was  exhausted,  and  the  men  be- 
gan to  murmur  against  the  further  prosecution  of  the  voyage. 
Gama  held  no  parley  with  these  men.  He  simply  had  the  lead- 
ers of  the  discontent  put  in  irons,  and  held  on  his  way  in  the 
wild,  tempestuous  sea.  After  wrestling  nine  days  with  the 
storm,  he  had  rounded  the  terrible  Cape,  and  came  to  anchor  on 
the  other  side  of  it,  in  the  Bay  of  St.  Braz.  There  he  made  a 
stay  of  thirteen  days,  repairing  damages,  bending  new  sails,  and 
taking  rest.  There,  too,  he  unloaded  a  transport  laden  with 
provisions,  divided  her  cargo  among  his  other  ships,  and  sent  her 
back  to  Portugal.  It  was  at  this  part  of  the  African  coast  that 
Europeans  first  heard  of  the  existence  of  the  elephant,  though  they 
did  not  see  a  specimen  of  the  race  until  they  reached  Asia.  Af- 
ter leaving  this  bay  Gama  would  begin  his  career  as  a  discoverer, 
for  this  was  the  farthest  point  hitherto  reached  by  the  navigators 
of  Europe.  He  paused,  as  it  were,  to  take  breath  and  gird  up 
his  loins,  before  the  final  plunge  into  the  vast  Unknown. 

Setting  sail  from  the  Bay  of  St.  Braz  on  the  8th  of  Decem- 
ber, the  fleet  made  its  way  to  the  large  island  of  Natal,  which  it 
reached  on  Christmas  day,  sadly  battered  by  the  storms.  A 
month  later,  he  again  touched  the  African  shore ;  where  a  most 
important  event  occurred,  —  an  event,  indeed,  which  almost  se- 
cured the  final  success  of  the  voyage.  While  part  of  the  crew 
were  on  shore,  they  fell  in  with  two  men,  richly  dressed,  w^ho 
were  evidently  of  a  diflferent  race  from  the  natives,  and  of  a 
much  higher  order  of  civilization.  They  proved  to  be  two  Ma- 
hometan merchants,  who  lived  by  selling  to  the  Caffres  the  rich 
fabrics  of  India.  Gama  contrived,  by  means  of  native  inter- 
preters, to   enter   into   conversation  w^ith   these  men ;  and  he 


VASCO    DA    GAMA.  2G9 

icarncd  from  them  that  he  really  was  upon  the  road  to  India. 
They  described  to  him  the  position  of  the  great  island  of  Mada- 
gascar,  which  stretches  along  the  southern  coast  of  Africa  at  a 
distance  from  it  of  seven  hundred  miles.  India,  they  told  him, 
lay  beyond  the  island,  far  to  the  north  of  it,  two  thousand  miles 
from  the  nearest  point  of  the  African  continent.  They  advised 
him  to  sail  northward  along  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  then  cross 
to  the  shores  of  India  where  the  transit  was  shortest.  This  in- 
telligence, which  would  have  been  discouraging  enough  to  somo 
men,  filled  Gama  with  such  joy  and  confidence  that  he  named  a 
river  which  emptied  near  by  the  River  of  Good  Signs.  From 
this  time  Gama  felt  an  inward  assurance  that  he  should  accom- 
plish the  object  of  the  expedition. 

Fourteen  days  of  pleasant  sailing  brought  him  to  Mozambique, 
then  first  trodden  by  Europeans ;  the  natives  of  which  over- 
whelmed him  with  presents  and  offers  of  service.  Both  parties, 
it  soon  appeared,  were  laboring  under  a  mistake.  When  the 
Portuguese  saw  on  shore  the  spires  and  minarets  of  a  city,  they 
at  once  concluded  that  they  had  reached,  ut  last,  a  country 
inhabited  by  Christians ;  and  the  Mahometans  of  Mozambique, 
when  first  they  saw  the  light-complexioned  Portuguese,  sup- 
posed them  to  be,  of  course,  Mahometans.  Before  the  error 
was  discovered  Gama  obtained  from  them  a  pilot,  whom  he  re- 
tained, and  who  proved  to  be  of  great  use  to  him.  As  soon, 
however,  as  the  Mahometans  found  out  their  mistake,  their 
friendship  was  changed  into  active  hostility.  They  lay  in  am- 
bush for  the  Christians  at  the  watering-places ;  they  sent  them 
false  pilots  to  guide  the  ships  into  dangerous  places ;  and  it 
required  all  of  Gama's  skill  and  prudence  to  save  the  expedition 
from  their  wiles.  One  of  the  pilots  he  tied  up  and  whipped,  as 
a  lesson  in  navigation  to  the  others. 

Aided  by  native  pilots,  he  anchored,  on  Good  Friday,  1498, 
in  the  fine  harbor  of  ]\Ielinda,  a  town  on  the  coast  of  Africa, 
just  under  the  equator,  and  about  two  thousand  miles,  in  a 
straight  line,  from  the  southern  extremity  of  India.  From  this 
point  he  determined  to  strike  across  to  the  country  of  which  he 
was  in  quest ;  and  for  two  centuries  navigators  followed  his 
example.     Melinda  became,  in  consequence,  an  important  and 


270  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

wealthy  Portuguese  town,  and  the  ruins  of  churches  and  ware- 
houses may  still  be  seen  there.  Having  received  from  the  hos- 
pitable King  of  Melinda  a  skilful  and  faithful  pilot,  who  really 
knew  the  way  to  India,  Gama  left  the  African  coast  on  the  28th 
of  April,  and  directed  his  prows  once  more  into  the  broad  ocean. 

Favorable  winds  wafted  them  swiftly  on  their  course,  and  the 
pilot  did  his  duty  nobly.  On  Sunday,  May  17,  1498,  —  nine- 
teen days  after  leaving  Melinda,  and  ten  months  and  nine  days 
after  Icavinsr  Portusral, — Yasco  da  Gama  saw  the  shores  of 
India,  and  the  next  day  came  to  anchor  in  a  harbor  six  miles 
south  of  the  once  important  town  of  Calicut.  Much  to  his  sur- 
prise, he  found  the  port  of  Calicut  crowded  with  ships  from 
Arabia,  and  he  beheld  everywhere  indications  of  an  extensiv^e 
commerce  and  prodigious  wealth.  The  new-comers,  indeed, 
found  themselves  to  be  of  small  account  therft,  and  it  was  not 
without  some  difficulty  that  their  chief  obtained  an  audience  of 
the  rajah  of  the  country.  Ko  one  approaches  an  oriental  poten- 
tate without  bringing  him  presents,  and  those  presents  must  be 
proportioned  in  value  to  the  rank  and  importance  of  the  person- 
age to  Avhom  they  are  offered.  Yasco  da  Gama  possessed  noth- 
ing worthy  the  acceptance  of  this  great  rajah,  and  the  gifts  which 
he  did  offer  him  excited  the  disdain  of  the  court  and  the  derision 
of  the  town.  Ignorant,  too,  of  the  customs  of  the  country,  and 
especially  ignorant  of  the  system  of  castes,  he  came  into  collision 
with  the  people,  and  had  a  world  of  trouble  wdth  them.  After 
endeavoring  in  vain,  for  four  or  five  months,  to  gain  a  footing  in 
the  country,  he  solemnly  took  possession  of  it  in  the  name  of 
the  Kins:  of  Portus^al,  and  set  sail  for  home. 

The  return  vo^-age  was  more  difficult  and  eventful  than  the 
voyage  out.  Agonizing  calms  prolonged  it ;  the  scurvy  raged 
among  the  crew^s ;  bloody  conflicts  with  the  natives  occurred ; 
storms  tossed  and  shook  the  worn-out  ships.  So  many  men 
died  that  one  of  the  ships  had  to  be  abandoned,  because  there 
were  not  sailors  enough  left  to  work  three  vessels.  At  last, 
early  in  September,  1499,  after  an  absence  of  two  years  and  two 
months,  Yasco  da  Gama  reached  Lisbon,  and  related  to  his  grate- 
ful king  the  wondrous  story  of  his  adventures.  Titles,  money, 
power,  the  homage  of  a  kingdom,  and  the  admiration  of  Europe, 


VASCO    DA    GAMA.  271 

rewarded  this  determined  man  for  the  fatigues  and  dangers  ho 
had  inidergone. 

Named  by  the  king  Admiral  of  the  Indies,  he  sailed  again  ^or 
India  that  very  year,  in  command  of  a  powerful  lleet  of  fiileen 
ships,  strongly  manned.  lie  laid  the  foundation  of  the  Portu- 
guese power  in  India,  and  opened  that  commerce  wliich  for  many 
a  year  poured  wealth  into  the  coffers  of  both  the  king  and  peo- 
ple of  Portugal.  Venice  declined,  and  Portugal  supplied  Eu- 
rope with  the  products  of  Asia.  He  brought  his  fleet  back  to 
Portugal  almost  entire.  Appointed  Governor  of  the  Indies,  he 
reached  that  country  once  more,  and  there  died,  after  holding 
the  governorship  only  a  few  months. 

Gama  was  a  short  and  exceedingly  fat  man,  subject  to  fearful 
explosions  of  anger,  but  usually  mild  and  courteous  in  his  de- 
meanor. He  w^as  a  person  of  much  learning,  a  devoted  Catholic, 
and  full  of  resources  in  times  of  danger  and  difficulty.  A  man 
less  gifted  or  less  determined  than  he  would  never  have  found 
the  way  to  India  in  the  infanc}^  of  the  art  of  navigatioa. 


^12  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 


DR.    HAHNEMANN, 

THE   POUNDER    OF   HOMCEOPATHY. 


8A3IUEL  Christian  Frederick  Hahnejuann  was  born  in  Ger- 
many, in  1755.  His  father  was  a  porcelain  painter  in  limited 
circumstances,  who,  however,  gave  his  son  all  the  advantages 
of  education  which  his  native  province  furnished.  The  boy 
was  precocious,  diligent,  serious,  and  full  of  curiosity.  When 
his  father  wished  to  take  him  from  school  and  apprentice  him 
to  a  trade,  the  rector  of  the  academy  which  he  attended  opposed 
the  scheme,  and  offered  to  support  the  youth  at  school  if  hig 
father  would  permit  him  to  embrace  a  learned  profession.  This 
offer  was  accepted,  and  Hahnemann  continued  his  studies. 

At  twenty  years  of  age  he  went  to  the  imiversity  of  Leipsic 
to  study  medicine.  As  the  bounty  of  the  school-master  ceased 
when  the  student  left  the  academy,  and  Hahnemann  had  no 
resources  of  his  own,  he  was  compelled  to  gain  his  livelihood 
by  translating  medical  works  from  English  into  German. 
With  this  double  labor  to  perform,  — namely,  to  acquire  his  pro- 
fession and  earn  his  living,  —  he  was  compelled  to  put  forth  the 
most  extraordinary  exertions.  He  declares  that,  for  some 
years,  he  slept  only  every  other  night. 

In  his  twenty-third  year  he  went  to  Vienna,  where  he  was 
so  fortunate  as  to  obtain  the  place  of  physician  and  librarian  to 
a  wealthy  nobleman,  and  thus,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
accumulated  a  little  money.  He  soon,  however,  returned  to 
his  native  place ;  and,  after  many  removals,  he  settled  at 
Dresden,  a  married  man,  thirty  years   of  age. 

At  Dresden  he  had  considerable  success  as  a  physician. 
During  the  sickness  of  the  principal  doctor  of  the  town  he 
performed    the    duties    of    physician-in-chief    to    the    public 


DR.    HAHNEMANN.  273 

hospitals,  and  lie  enjoyed  also  a  respectable  private  practice. 
Suddenly,  to  the  astonishment  of  his  friends  and  the  consterna- 
tion of  his  family,  he  abandoned  his  patients  and  his  rising 
prospects  at  Dresden,  and  repaired  again  to  Leipsic,  -where  he 
lived  in  solitude,  employing  his  time  in  study  and  translation, 
as  of  old.  The  reason  of  this  strange  proceeding  was  his  dis- 
satisftiction  with  the  practice  and  theory  of  medicine  which  then 
prevailed. 

"It  was,"  wrote  he,  to  one  of  his  friends,  "always  a  torture 
to  me  to  walk  in  darkness  when  I  had  to  attend  the  sick.  My 
conscience  bitterly  reproached  me  for  treating  the  unknown 
diseases  of  my  brethren  by  medicines  equally  unknown,  which, 
being  active  substances,  could  kill  the  sick  or  produce  new  and 
worse  diseases.  To  become  thus  the  murderer  of  my  fellow- 
beings  was  for  me  an  idea  so  frightful  and  so  overwhelming, 
that  I  renounced  medicine." 

He  now  devoted  himself  to  investigations  m  chemistry,  in 
which  he  made  some  important  acquisitions.  He  invented  a 
plan  of  discovering  adulterations  in  wine,  and  of  detecting  the 
presence  of  arsenic  in  the  dead  body.  Recalled  to  the  practice 
of  medicine  by  the  dangerous  illness  of  his  children,  he  was 
tormented  by  the  necessity  in  which  he  found  himself  of  giving 
them  medicines  in  which  he  had  lost  confidence,  without  having 
discovered  better. 

"I  cannot  believe,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "that  the  sovereign 
and  paternal  goodness  of  Him  whom  no  name  designates  in  a 
manner  worthy  of  him,  who  provides  largely  for  the  needs 
even  of  the  imperceptible  animalcules,  who  spreads  with  pro- 
fusion life  and  happiness  throughout  all  creation,  has  devoted 
his  dearest  creature  to  the  torments  of  remediless  disease ;  and 
I  am  persuaded  that  nature  must  have  placed  within  reach  of 
man  some  simple  and  infallible  means  of  cure.  We  have  nf' 
searched  for  those  means  aright,  else  they  would  long  since 
have  been  discovered." 

At  this  period  of  his  life  he  continued  to  earn  his  livelihood 
by  the  translation  of  English  works.  One  day,  when  he  was 
translating  a  passage  descriptive  of  the  various  effects  of  Peru- 
vian bark,  in  its  usual  form  of  quinine,  he  was  struck  with  the 

18 


274  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY. 

ignorance  displayed  by  the  writer  in  his  attempts  to  explain 
why  this  medicine  was  so  efficacious  in  the  cure  of  fevers.  He 
perceived  that  the  author  knew  no  more  of  the  matter  than  he 
did  himself.  It  had  occurred  to  him  some  time  before  that 
perhaps  the  best  way  of  studying  the  effects  of  medicines  would 
be  to  try  them  on  persons  in  good  health,  and  he  resolved  now 
to  make  such  an  experiment  with  quinine.  Accordingly,  he 
took  for  several  days  in  succession  as  large  a  dose  of  this 
powerful  medicine  as  he  had  been  accustomed  formerly  to 
prescribe  to  patients  afflicted  with  intermittent  fever.  The 
effect  was  truly  remarkable  :  the  medicine  which  cured  inter- 
mittent fever  produced  intermittent  fever.  He  repeated  tho 
experiment  upon  some  of  his  friends  interested  in  medical 
science,  and  in  every  case  with  the  same  result.  He  soon 
began  to  suspect  that  quinine  cured  the  fever  precisely  because 
it  had  the  property  of  producing  a  fever.  In  other  words,  he 
began  to  see  afar  off  the  great  fundamental  principle  of  homoe- 
opathy, which  is,  that  like  cures  like.  He  proceeded  to  try 
other  medicines,  and  he  says  that  in  every  case  he  found  that 
the  medicine  which  could  cure  a  disease  could  also  produce  it. 

He  next  experimented  upon  the  best  mode  of  administering 
medicines ;  which  resulted,  at  length,  in  his  adoption  of  in- 
finitesimal doses.  He  discovered,  or  thought  he  discovered, 
that  infinitesimal  doses  of  active  drugs  have  more  effect  upon 
the  cure  of  disease  than  the  quantities  usually  given.  Whether 
his  theory  upon  this  point  is  a  valuable  truth  or  a  ridiculous 
fallacy,  I  am  not  competent  to  decide.  Every  reader  of  these 
lines  is  either  a  homoeopathist  or  an  allopathist,  and  has 
formed  his  own  opinion  on  the  subject.  For  my  part,  I  never 
take  any  medicine,  and  should  be  perfectly  willing  to  be  treated 
for  any  disease  by  a  competent  nurse.  Believing  that  drugs 
may  be  dispensed  with,  and  are  generally  injurious,  I  rejoice  in 
the  spread  of  homoeopathy,  because  a  homoeopathic  dose  of 
medicine  is  the  nearest  thins^  to  no  medicine  at  all. 

Having  now  a  system  of  medicine  in  which  he  believed.  Dr. 
Hahnemann  returned  to  its  practice,  and  very  soon  found  a 
hornet's  nest  about  his  ears.  While  practising  his  new  system 
in  a  hospital  near  Brunswick,  the  apothecaries  of  the  place 


DR.    HAHNEMANN.  27.J 

formed  a  league  against  the  doctor,  who  made  his  own  mcdi- 
cines,  and  whose  system  threatened  their  business  with  ruin. 
They  discovered  an  ancient  law  which  forbade  physicians  to 
prescribe  medicines  not  made  by  a  regular  apothecary,  and 
Hahnemann  was  compelled  to  leave  the  place.  lie  removed 
successivel}^  to  three  other  towns,  from  each  of  which  he  was  in 
turn  driven  by  the  apothecaries.  He  then  fixed  his  residence 
at  Leipsic,  where  he  had  his  first  eminent  and  undeniable 
success.  It  was  in  1813,  when,  in  consequence  of  the  presence 
of  two  large  armies,  a  malignant  tj'phus  fever  raged,  and  the 
sick  became  so  numerous  that  it  was  necessary  to  divide  them 
among  the  city  physicians.  Seventy-three  cases  fell  to  the 
share  of  Dr.  Hahnemann,  all  of  whom  he  treated  on  the  homoe- 
opathic system,  and  all  of  whom  recovered,  except  one  old 
man.  This  striking  success,  while  it  increased  the  number  of 
his  disciples,  inflamed  the  fury  of  his  enemies,  and  he  could  not 
sro  into  the  streets  without  beins^  hooted  at  and  insulted.  Com- 
pelled  again  to  take  flight,  he  found  refuge  at  the  obscure  capital 
of  one  of  his  disciples,  the  Duke  of  Anhalt.  But  even  there  he 
was  not  safe  from  persecution.  Several  times  the  windows  of 
his  house  were  broken,  and  he  seldom  ventured  out  of  doors. 

INIean while,  his  writings  and  the  fame  of  his  success  brought 
him  such  multitudes  of  patients,  that  the  little  town  in  which 
he  lived  acquired  an  importance  it  had  never  before  known, 
and  derived  so  much  advantage  from  the  concourse  of  patients 
that  a  reaction  in  his  favor  set  in,  and  he  became  in  time  the 
most  popular  man  in  the  town.  After  practising  fifteen  years 
under  the  protection  of  the  Duke  of  Anhalt,  a  curious  circum- 
stance drew  him  aw^ay  from  his  seclusion.  He  was  then  a 
widower  of  eighty  years,  though  still  possessed  of  much  of  the 
alertness  and  sprightliness  of  j^outh.  A  young  French  lady, 
who  had  come  to  consult  him,  became  his  enthusiastic  admirer, 
and  their  acquaintance  soon  ended  in  marriage.  His  young 
w^ife  induced  him  to  remove  to  Paris.  So  popular  had  he 
become,  and  so  necessary  to  the  prosperity  of  the  little  town, 
that  it  w^as  deemed  best  for  him  to  take  his  departure  secretly 
in  the  night,  for  fear  the  people  might  forcibly  detain  him. 

At    Paris    he    again    encountered    the    opposition    of    the 


276      PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

physicians  and  apothecaries.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  M. 
Guizot,  then  minister  of  public  instruction,  made  his  celebrated 
reply  to  the  members  of  the  Academy  of  Medicine,  who  came 
to  ask  him  to  refuse  Dr.  Hahnemann  permission  to  exercise  his 
profession  in  France. 

"  Either,"  said  M.  Guizot,  "homoeopathy  is  a  chimera,  or  it  is 
not.  If  it  is,  it  will  fall  of  itself;  if  it  is  not,  it  will  remain  in 
spite  of  all  the  measures  which  can  be  taken  to  retard  its 
development." 

In  Paris  he  had  wonderful  success.  His  waiting-rooms  were 
crowded  with  patients.  He  devoted  himself  to  the  practice  of 
his  art,  to  the  propagation  of  his  doctrines,  and  to  the  instruction 
of  his  pupils  with  an  energy  and  ardor  seldom  equalled  in  a 
man  of  fourscore.  For  a  period  of  eight  years  he  was  the 
fashionable  physician  of  Paris.  Until  within  a  few  weeks  of 
his  death  he  continued  to  enjoy  excellent  health,  and  died  in 
1843,  aged  eighty-eight  years,  leaving  behind  him  in  every 
country  of  Christendom  a  considerable  number  of  ardent 
disciples.  Besides  his  labors  as  a  physician,  he  published 
books  enough  for  a  small  library.  Including  his  translations, 
he  gave  the  world  about  a  hundred  volumes  upon  medicine  and 
chemistry. 

Hahnemann  was  one  of  the  most  active,  vehement,  sincere, 
and  persevering  of  mortals.  AYhether  his  doctrine  be  true  or 
false,  he  has  done  immense  good  in  the  world  by  exciting 
inquiry,  and  by  assisting  to  deliver  the  sick  from  those  per- 
nicious and  violent  remedies  which  killed  more  people  than 
they  cured,  and  aggravated  disease  as  often  as  they  relieved  it. 
Bleeding,  blistering,  and  mercury,  —  how  can  we  be  too  grate- 
ful to  a  man  who  put  them  out  of  fashion  ?  And  how  we  ought 
to  bless  the  memory  of  him  who  delivered  little  children  from 
those  appalling  doses  of  salts,  castor-oil,  and  rhubarb  with  which 
they  used  to  be  terrified  and  griped. 


ALFONSE    I..    OF    PORTUGAL.  277 


ALFONSE    I.,    OF    PORTUGAL. 


The  other  day,  a  writer  began  a  satirical  article  by  telling  a 
story  of  a  general,  who,  before  leading  his  troops  to  battle,  ad- 
dressed them,  thus  :  — 

"  Soldiers,  rememl)er  that  you  are  Portuguese  !  " 

Here  the  reader  was  expected  to  laugh,  —  the  writer  evidently 
supposing  that  the  idea  of  a  native  of  Portugal  having  national 
pride  was  ridiculous  in  the  highest  degree.  How  little  he  knew 
the  people  or  the  history  of  that  country  !  The  Portuguese  are 
proud  of  their  native  land,  even  to  bigotry ;  and  the  time  has 
been  when  Portuiral  ffave  law  to  vast  res^ions  of  the  earth,  and 
when  the  Portuguese  uniform  was  a  passport  to  respect  in  Eu- 
rope, and  to  homage  in  Asia.  The  navigators  of  Portugal  pre- 
ceded and  inspired  Columbus  himself.  It  was  Portugal  that 
first  made  the  East  Indies  tributary  to  Europe,  and  Portugal 
that  gave  the  great  impulse  to  the  commerce  which  has  enriched, 
by  turns,  Holland  and  England. 

This  little  kingdom  owed  its  greatness  to  one  man,  Alfonse, 
—  the  first  who  bore  the  title  of  Kins^  of  Portuijal. 

In  the  year  1086,  when  the  Moors  still  possessed  the  largest 
and  best  portion  of  the  whole  Spanish  peninsula,  the  King  of 
Castile,  apprehending  the  invasion  of  his  states  by  the  jNIoorish 
host,  sent  to  the  King  of  France,  and  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
for  help.  A  gallant  band  of  French  and  Burgundian  knights 
and  men-at-arms  responded  to  this  demand,  and  spent  three 
years  in  the  Peninsula,  fighting  the  Moors,  and  extending  the 
area  of  Christian  rule.  Among  the  provinces  wTested  b}^  their 
aid  from  the  Infidels,  was  one  which  forms  part  of  the  modern 
kins^dom  of  Portu2:al. 

The  prince  who  commanded  the  Burgundian  portion  of  the 


278       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OE  BIOGRAPHY. 

allied  army  was  Henry,  brother  of  the  reigning  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy. To  him,  as  a  reward  for  his  services,  the  King  of  Spain 
gave  in  marriage  his  illegitimate  daughter,  Theresa,  and  assigned 
for  their  maintenance  the  province  just  mentioned,  naming  his 
son-in-law  Count  of  Portugal,  and  rendering  him  master  and 
lord  of  the  country, — him  and  his  heirs  forever.  Thus  it  was 
that  Portugal  became  an  independent  power.  The  new  count 
fixed  his  residence  north  of  the  Douro,  where  the  ruins  of  his 
castle  are  still  to  be  seen.  He  passed  his  life  in  warring  upon 
the  Moors,  performing  great  exploits,  and  died  in  1112,  after 
reigning  seventeen  years,  leaving  his  son,  Alfonse,  three  years 
old,  and  appointing  his  wife  regent  of  the  country  and  guardian 
of  his  boy. 

Theresa,  a  weak  and  foolish  woman,  surrounded  with  flat- 
terers, and  ruled  by  favorites,  governed  the  province  so  badly, 
that  Alfonse,  w'hen  he  was  sixteen  years  of  age,  yielding  to  the 
entreaties  of  the  nobles  and  the  clamor  of  the  people,  seized 
the  supreme  authority,  and  expelled  his  mother  and  her  favorites 
from  the  palace.  She  raised  the  standard  of  resistance,  and 
gathered  an  army  about  her.  The  youthful  count  led  his  forces 
against  her,  defeated  her  in  battle,  took  her  prisoner,  and  kept 
her  in  close  confinement  until  her  death,  which  occurred  three 
years  after.  The  young  King  of  Castile  was  nephew  of  Theresa, 
and  led  an  army  to  her  deliverance.  The  Count  of  Portugal 
defeated  him  also,  and  remained  thenceforth  the  undisputed 
ruler  of  the  country. 

He  grew  to  the  stature  of  a  giant.  In  a  small  Portuguese 
city,  near  the  ruins  of  the  castle  in  which  he  w^as  born,  a  suit  of 
his  armor  is  preserved,  which  proves  that  he  must  have  been 
six  feet  and  ten  inches  in  heisfht.  !N"otwithstandin2:  his  exces- 
sive  tallness,  he  was  wonderfully  strong,  graceful,  and  alert. 
As  he  attained  mature  age,  he  gave  every  indication  of  possess- 
ing byth  excellent  talents  and  a  lofty  character.  He  was,  in- 
deed, one  of  the  very  ablest  and  best  of  modern  rulers ;  he  is 
esteemed  by  the  Portuguese  as  the  English  esteem  their  King 
Alfred.  In  Portugal,  to  this  day,  Alfonse  I.  is  another  name 
for  all  that  is  high,  noble,  wise  and  chivalric. 

Tlio  grand  object  of  the  Christian  princes  in  the  peninsula,  for 


ALFONSE    I.,    OF    POllTUGAL.  279 

eight  hundred  years,  was  to  expcll  the  Moors.  Eii^ht  hundred 
years  of  ahiiost  continuous  war  I  The  reason  why  this  contest 
lasted  so  h)ng  was  that  neither  pai-ty  was  united  in  itself.  The 
Moors  were  divided  into  a  multitude  of  communities,  each  gov- 
erned b^^  its  own  petty  chieftain,  so  that  it  was  only  on  great 
occasions,  under  the  influence  of  great  terror  or  confident  hopes, 
that  they  acted  in  concert;  and  when,  by  their  momentary 
union,  signal  advantages  had  been  won,  they  soon  fell  to  quarrel- 
ling among  themselves.  It  was  so  with  the  Christians  also. 
Alfonse,  as  we  have  seen,  had  no  sooner  grasped  the  reins  of 
power,  than  he  was  involved  in  war  with  his  own  mother. 
When  she  was  overthrown,  her  cause  w^as  espoused  by  a  neigh- 
boring king,  which  led  to  another  war,  in  which  both  Castile 
and  Portu^ral  suffered  terrible  disasters,  each  beini]^  in  turn 
overrun  and  devastated  by  the  other.  Nothing  ended  this 
contest  but  the  terror  of  a  new  invasion  by  the  Moors,  which 
threatened  the  destruction  of  both  belligerents.  In  view  of 
this  great  peril,  the  Pope  interposed,  and  induced  each  of  them 
to  give  up  all  his  conquests  from  the  other,  and  join  against  the 
common  foe. 

The  Moors  invaded  Portugal  with  a  prodigious  arm}'.  Portu- 
guese historians  say  that  it  consisted  of  two  hundred  thousand 
men,  commanded  by  five  infidel  kings,  and  that  Count  Alfonse 
could  onl}^  muster  a  force  of  thirteen  thousand  Christian  troops 
w^ith  which  to  oppose  them.  But,  they  add,  God  showed  him- 
self clearly  on  the  side  of  his  chosen  servants.  They  relate 
that  when  Alfonse  sa^v  the  mighty  host  of  the  infidels,  and  con- 
sidered the  insignificance  of  his  own  army,  he  fiiltered,  and  was 
half  inclined  to  avoid  a  battle.  Suddenly  a  holy  hermit,  who 
dwelt  and  prayed  in  the  neighboring  forest,  appeared  before 
him,  and  bade  him  be  of  good  cheer. 

"Go  forth  to  the  combat  in  the  morning,"  he  said,  "when  you 
hear  the  bell  ring  for  earlj^  mass,  and  turn  to  the  east." 

He  obeyed  the  heavenly  mandate.  "As  he  was  wheeling  his 
troops  into  line,"  continued  the  Portuguese  narrators,  "he  be- 
held in  the  sky  the  image  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  and  he  heard  a 
voice  proceeding  from  it,  assuring  him  of  victory,  and  promis- 
ing him  a  kingly  crown,  which  should  be  worn  l)y  sixteen  of 


280  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGR^lPHY. 

his  descendants."  All  the  histories  written  in  that  age  abound 
in  marvels  of  this  kind. 

Alfonse  attacked  the  foe ;  the  battle  was  long  and  bloody ; 
the  towering  form  of  the  Christian  commander  was  seen  wherever 
the  fight  was  hottest.  His  troops,  inspired  by  his  brilliant  and 
inexhaustible  valor,  did  not  forget  that  "they  were  Portuguese," 
and  fought  with  a  constancy  equal  to  his  own.  The  five 
Moorish  kings  were  slain,  and  a  vast  number  of  their  immedi- 
ate followers ;  the  Moorish  host  was  broken,  at  length,  and  fled 
in  wild  panic  back  to  their  own  provinces,  leaving  Count  Alfonse 
master  of  extended  frontiers.  At  the  close  of  this  great  day 
the  victorious  soldiers  gathered  round  their  giant-chief  and  pro- 
claimed him  King  of  Portugal.  He  accepted  the  title  ;  and  to 
this  day  the  Portuguese  look  upon  the  plain  in  which  this  battle 
was  fought  as  the  birth-place  of  the  monarchy.  The  plain  of 
Ourique  is  the  Bunker  Hill  of  Portugal. 

No  sooner  was  Alfonse  delivered  from  this  danger,  than  he 
was  involved  in  another  war  with  one  of  his  Christian  neighbors, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  was  badly  wounded,  and  once  defeated. 
While  he  was  still  in  the  dominions  of  his  Christian  foe,  news 
reached  him  that  the  Moors  were  again  advancing  toward  the 
frontiers  of  Portugal.  Compelled  by  this  intelligence  to  return 
home,  he  fought  the  Moors  with  varying  fortune,  until,  in  1145, 
he  again  won  over  them  a  signal  victory,  which  enlarged  his 
dominions,  and  gave  him  a  short  interval  of  peace. 

During  this  respite  from  the  toils  of  war,  being  then  thirty- 
seven  years  of  age,  King  Alfonse  married  Matilda,  daughter  of 
one  of  the  Christian  princes  of  the  peninsula.  She  was  a 
woman  worthy  to  be  the  wife  of  such  a  king,  and  well  fitted  to 
govern  his  kingdom  while  he  was  absent  defending  it.  Three 
sons  and  three  daughters  were  born  to  them,  whom  they  edu- 
cated in  a  manner  far  beyond  the  customs  of  the  age  in  which 
they  lived.  These  parents  succeeded  in  impressing  their  char- 
acters upon  their  ofispring,  who  continued,  for  several  genera- 
tions, to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  their  ancestors.  To  this  fact, 
as  much  as  to  the  personal  virtues  of  Alfonse,  the  subsequent 
«:reatness  of  Portuf^al  was  due. 

At  the  time  of  his  marriage,  Lisbon,  the  present  capital  of 


ALEONSE    I.,    OF    PORTUGAL.  281 

Portugal,  was  still  a  IMoorish  city.  Soon  after  his  honeymoon, 
he  began  preparations  for  its  reduction,  and  in  the  course  of  the 
following  year  he  led  an  army  against  it  and  laid  siege  to  it. 
Strongly  fortified,  and  numerously  defended,  Lisl)on  long  re- 
sisted his  utmost  exertions,  and  at  last  it  was  but  an  accident 
which  enabled  him  to  carry  it.  A  fleet  of  adventurers,  French, 
English,  and  Flemings,  bound  for  the  Holy  Land,  chanced  to 
anchor  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tagus.  The  King  of  Portugal  bc- 
souirht  their  aid. 

"You  are  o'oino:  to  flight  the  Infidels  of  Palestine,"  said  he; 
"there  are  Infidels  in  yonder  city." 

The  crusaders  were  easily  persuaded  to  lend  him  their  aid, 
and  Lisbon  was  quickly  reduced  and  added  to  the  possessions 
of  Alfonse.  This  important  conquest  brought  troops  of  other 
crusaders  to  his  assistance.  Within  a  few  months,  twelve  other 
Moorish  strongholds  were  captured  by  him. 

The  reign  of  this  valiant  king  lasted  just  sixty  years,  durmg 
which  he  scarcely  enjoyed  five  years,  in  all,  of  peace.  Now  he 
warred  with  the  Moors,  now  with  Christians ;  sometimes  with 
both  at  once.  AVhen  he  was  seventy  years  of  age  he  was  still 
active  in  the  field  against  one  of  his  own  sons-in-law,  by  whom 
he  was  taken  prisoner,  but  soon  after  honorably  released. 

His  long  reign  began  and  ended  in  victory.  In  the  seventy- 
fifth  year  of  his  age,  the  Moors  made  one  more  mighty  eflfort  to 
dislodge  him  from  his  little  kingdom,  and  win  back  the  prov- 
inces of  which  he  had  despoiled  them.  To  the  floors  of  Spain 
were  added  vast  numbers  from  Africa,  and  a  countless  host 
swept  over  the  Christian  provinces,  led  on  by  the  king  of 
Morocco  himself.  Nothing  stopped  them  but  one  of  Alfonse 's 
strongholds,  which  he  had  fortified  against  the  day  of  need. 
When  the  Moors  had  exhausted  themselves  in  vain  assaults 
upon  this  fortress,  Alfonse  fell  upon  them,  and  gave  them  a 
defeat  as  signal  as  that  which  had  won  him  a  crown.  A  year 
after,  the  founder  of  the  kin2:dom  of  Portu2:al  died,  aired  seventv- 
six,  leaving  to  his  son,  Sancho,  tranquil  and  prosperous  domin- 
ions, which  he  governed  in  the  spirit  and  manner  of  his  father. 

Alfonse  found  Portugal  a  province,  and  left  it  a  nation.  Ho 
defended  it  by  his  sword,  and  founded  the  institutions  by  vir 


282  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

tue  of  which  it  became  great.  His  death  interrupted  not  the 
advance  of  his  kingdom,  because  he  had  known  how  to  rear  a 
sou  who  was  but  another  Alfonse.  Stren^^th  and  courasfe  he 
exhibited  in  a  high  degree,  and  these  are  usually  sufficient  for 
a  great  personal  success.  But  to  found  a  family,  —  to  be  the 
progenitor  of  a  line  of  noble  kings,  — a  man  must  be  wise  and 
virtuous,  and  both  in  an  eminent  degree.  How  many  men 
there  are  among  us  to  to-day  who  have  made  a  great  fortune ; 
but  how  few  of  them  have  succeeded  in  the  infinitely  more  dif- 
ficult task  of  rearing  a  son  worthy  to  inherit  and  able  to  use  it ! 


BAETHOLOMEW    DIA8.  283 


BARTHOLOMEW   DIAS. 


-«>»- 


All  sailors  and  geographers,  I  repeat,  should  pronounce  Tvith 
respect  the  word,  Porlugal;  for  it  was  that  little  kingdom  which 
led  the  way  in  navigating  the  ocean.  But  for  Portugal,  Columbus 
had  never  discovered  America.  It  was  the  example  of  Portu- 
guese navigators  that  gave  him  courage  to  undertake  his  great 
voyage  ;  and  it  was  while  living  in  Portugal  and  exercising  his 
vocation  of  map-maker  that  the  conviction  grew  in  his  mind  of 
the  existence  of  land  in  the  western  hemisphere.  Alfonso,  the 
first  and  greatest  King  of  Portugal,  was,  as  I  have  said,  the 
progenitor  of  a  noble  line  of  kings,  who  raised  one  of  the  small- 
est of  kingdoms  to  a  rank  and  importance  in  Europe  scarcely 
inferior  to  that  of  the  largest. 

The  first  of  the  series  of  events  which  ended  in  the  discovery 
of  a  new  world  was  the  introduction  of  the  Mariner's  Compass, 
without  which  it  had  never  been  safe  to  venture  out  of  si^ht  of 
land.  Xo  one  knows  who  invented  this  sublime  instrument. 
We  only  know  that  it  was  first  used  in  navigating  the  seas  about 
the  year  1420,  —  seventy  years  before  Columbus  sailed. 

The  Avhole  of  that  period  of  seventy  years  was  filled  with 
events  of  the  hiixhest  interest  to  navi2:ators.  Then  it  was  that 
the  science  of  navigation  began  to  exist.  In  the  court  of  a 
Portuguese  king  the  compass  was  first  seriously  studied.  There, 
too,  were  constructed  the  first  tables  of  the  sun's  declinations, 
for  sailors'  use  ;  and  there  was  first  disclosed  the  modern  modo 
of  taking  observations  of  the  sun.  By  Portuguese  navigators 
the  islands  Ij'ing  off  the  African  coast  —  the  Azores,  Madeiras, 
Cape  Yerdes,  and  others  —  were  discovered.  Portuguese  sailors 
first  ventured  down  along  the  coast  of  Africa ;  first  visited  the 
negro  in  his  native  home  ;  first  saw  the  elephant ;  first  bro'ight 


284  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

to  Europe  pepper,  ivory,  and  gold  dust,  from  the  shores  of 
Guinea ;  first  planted  the  cross  upon  those  distant  coasts ;  lirst 
saw  that  remote  headland  which  was  afterwards  named  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope ;  first  doubled  the  cape,  and  so  reached  by 
sea  the  East  Indies.  These  were  great  achievements,  second 
in  importance  only  to  the  discovery  of  a  new  continent,  and  sur- 
passing even  that  in  difficulty  and  danger. 

Of  the  Portuguese  navigators  who  preceded  Columbus,  Bar- 
tholomew Dias  was  the  most  famous  and  successful.  It  was  in 
1486  —  six  years  before  the  discovery  of  America  —  that  Dias 
made  the  vo3^age  which  immortalizes  his  name.  At  that  time, 
the  principal  islands  off  the  northern  coast  of  Africa  were  pay- 
ing tribute  to  the  Portuguese  king,  and  the  coast  itself  had  been 
explored  to  a  point  within  1,100  miles  of  the  southern  extremity 
of  the  continent.  Beyond  that  point  all  was  as  yet  unknown. 
But  there  existed  then  in  Portugal  such  an  enthusiasm  for  ex- 
plorations and  discoveries,  that  no  sooner  had  one  navigator 
returned  and  related  his  adventures  than  plans  were  entertained 
for  new  attempts.  This  was  the  case  in  1486.  A  ship  returned 
in  that  year  which  had  sailed  up  the  river  Congo,  and  brought 
home  a  chief  of  the  country  to  be  baptized  a  Christian.  Ee- 
ligious  zeal,  the  desire  of  gain  and  national  pride,  all  concurred 
to  induce  the  King  of  Portugal  to  fit  out  a  new  expedition,  to 
ascertain,  if  possible,  how  far  Africa  extended,  and  what  there 
was  at  the  end  of  it.  They  had  been  working  at  Africa  for 
many  a  year.  Great  and  strange  things  had  been  discovered  ; 
but  they  had  not  yet  reached  the  bottom  of  the  mystery. 

Two  vessels,  each  of  fifty  tons  burthen,  were  equip])ed  and 
armed,  and  placed  under  the  command  of  Dias,  a  man  of  rank 
and  a  member  of  the  king's  household.  The  little  vessels  put 
to  sea,  followed  by  the  ardent  wishes  of  all  Portugal.  Colum- 
bus was  not  upon  the  shore  to  see  them  ofi";  for,  one  year  be- 
fore, after  having  long  endeavored  to  obtain  the  patronage  of 
the  King  of  Portugal,  he  had  left  that  country  and  offered  his 
services  to  the  King  of  Spain.  How  bitterly  the  King  of  Por- 
tugal regretted  this  six  years  after  ! 

The  two  ships  sped  away  before  favorable  gales,  and  quickly 
reached  the  southernmost  point  attained  by  previous  navigators. 


BARTHOLOMEW    DIAS.  28."> 

Beyond  latitude  twenty-two  degrees  nothing  was  known ;  and 
Dias  had  no  guide  but  the  line  of  the  coast.  This,  however, 
proved  to  be  a  very  deceptive  guide  ;  for  sometimes  it  stretched 
away  toward  the  west,  then  indented  eastward ;  so  that,  in  at- 
tempting to  make  short  cuts,  he  often  lost  the  land,  sailed  many 
days  out  of  his  course,  and  was  then  obliged  to  retrace  his  steps 
and  groi)e  about,  as  it  were,  until  he  found  the  continent  again. 
As  the  ships  advanced  toward  the  south,  the  astonishment  of  the 
navigators  was  unbounded  when  they  found  tlie  weather  daily 
growing  colder.  This  was  contrary  to  all  past  experience.  No 
European  had  ever  before  gone  far  enough  south  of  the  equator 
to  discover  that  the  temperature  lowers  as  you  go  south  of  the 
equator  in  the  same  proportion  as  Avhen  you  go  north  of  it. 
This  fact  was  the  first  great  discovery  of  Dias  and  his  followers. 

Sailing  along  the  coast,  he  saw  at  length  the  lofty  promontor}', 
a  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  which  terminates  the 
continent.  He  had  accomplished  his  mission,  but  he  knew  it 
not.  Still  hugging  the  shore,  he  soon  observed  that  the  line  of 
coast  now  tended  northward ;  whence  he  gradually  concluded 
that  he  had  doubled  the  southern  extremity  of  Africa. 

It  is  much  to  the  credit  of  Dias  and  of  the  enlic^htened  kins' 
"whom  he  served,  that,  in  obedience  to  his  orders,  he  treated  the 
natives  of  Africa  with  all  possible  kindness.  Four  negro  vromcn, 
beguiled  from  their  home  by  previous  explorers,  he  carried 
back  to  their  comitry,  loaded  with  presents.  He  exchanged 
gifts,  also,  with  the  chiefs  whose  dominions  he  visited,  and 
treated  them  with  great  consideration.  They  reciprocated  his 
kindness  and  supplied  him  with  provisions.  On  one  occasion, 
however,  he  encountered  a  hostile  tribe.  Soon  after  roundins: 
the  great  cape,  he  had  occasion  to  land  for  a  supply  of  water. 
On  reaching  the  spring,  he  found  a  great  assemblage  of  natives, 
who  attempted  to  drive  away  the  sailors  by  a  shower  of  stones, 
hurled  from  slings.  Dias  ordered  up  one  of  those  enormous 
bow-guns  in  use  at  that  time ;  by  means  of  which  a  large  stone 
was  thrown  into  the  crowd  of  howling  savages,  stretched  one  of 
them  lifeless  upon  the  ground,  and  put  the  rest  to  flight. 

This  encounter  completed  the  discouragement  of  his  men. 
Dias  wished  to  push  on,  in  quest  of  the  rich  shores  of  India ; 


286  PEOPLE'S      BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

but  nothing  could  overcome  the  unwillingness  of  his  crew  to 
proceed  farther,  and  he  saw  himself,  at  length,  obliged  to  yield. 
Ordering  the  crews  of  both  ships  ashore,  he  set  up,  with  im- 
posing ceremonial,  a  wooden  cross,  rudely  fashioned  by  a  ship's 
carpenter,  which  bore  also  the  royal  arms  of  Portugal.  Be- 
neath this  cross  mass  was  said,  and  the  communion  administered. 
"When  these  services  were  concluded,  and  Dias  was  about  to  re- 
turn to  his  ship  and  sail  for  home,  his  heart  was  overcome  with 
the  bitterness  of  his  regrets.  The  thought  that  he  had  come  so 
far  only  to  set  up  a  cross,  and  that  he  was  turning  back  just 
when  complete  success  seemed  within  his  grasp,  shook  his  frame 
w^ith  emotion.  It  was  long  before  he  could  tear  himself  from 
the  spot.  "You  would  have  thought,"  said  one  of  his  comrades 
afterwards,  "that  he  was  taking  leave  of  an  only  son  exiled  for- 
ever to  that  distant  shore." 

It  was  not  till  Dias  had  again  doubled  the  cape,  that  he  knew 
for  a  certaint}^  that  it  was  indeed  the  end  of  the  continent.  He 
named  it  the  Cape  of  Storms. 

One  strange  and  melancholy  incident  occurred  on  the  voyage 
home.  Dias  had  stationed  a  small  store-ship  in  one  of  the  bays 
on  the  coast  of  Guinea,  which  he  left  in  charge  of  a  purser  and 
a  small  crew.  During  his  long  absence,  disease  had  reduced 
the  number  of  this  little  band,  until  none  remained  but  the  pur- 
ser and  two  or  three  sick,  despairing  sailors.  When,  at  last, 
the  purser  saw  in  the  distance  the  well-known  vessel  of  his  com- 
mander, such  was  the  shock  of  his  joy  that  he  fell  dead  upon 
the  deck  of  his  vessel. 

The  return  of  the  expedition  was  hailed  with  delight  by  king 
and  people.  John  II.,  comprehending  the  importance  of  the 
discovery,  and  foreseeing  all  its  probable  consequences,  would 
not  permit  the  cape  to  retain  the  name  given  to  it  by  Dias.  He 
called  it  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  which  it  has  ever  since  re- 
tained. He  meant  by  this  appellation  lo  express  the  feeling 
that  now  there  was  Good  Hope  of  reaching  India  b}^  sea ;  Good 
Hope  of  Portugal  sharing  in  the  commerce  which  had  enriched 
Venice ;  Good  Hope  of  making  up  for  the  small  territory  of 
Portugal  by  great  possessions  on  another  continent ;  and,  not 
least,  Good  Hope  of  adding  to  the  realm  of  the  cross  countless 


BARTHOLOMEW    DIAS.  287 

hosts  of  heathen.  All  these  Good  Hopes  wero  ahund [intly 
realized  ere  many  years  had  gone  by. 

For  some  reason  unknown,  Dias  did  not  receive  either  the 
honors  or  the  rewards  due  to  so  eminent  a  service.  He  was 
never  again  in  command  of  an  expedition,  though  he  lived  long 
enough  to  sec  the  results  of  his  discovery. 

In  the  year  1500,  a  fleet  of  twelve  Portuguese  ships  was  voy- 
aging toward  India.  Dias,  who  had  never  yet  set  foot  on  the 
land  to  which  he  had  shown  the  way,  was  in  command  of  one 
of  those  vessels.  One  clear,  still  afternoon  in  Ma}^  when  the 
fleet  was  coursing  gently  along  in  close  compan}^  a  hurricane 
suddenly  struck  them.  The  fleet  was  dispersed,  and  four  of  the 
vessels  immediately  filled  and  sunk.  Not  a  man  on  board  of 
them  was  rescued.  One  of  the  four  ships  thus  engulfed  was 
commanded  by  Bartholomew  Dias. 


288  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    EIOGEAPHT. 


EARLY   LIFE   OF   LORD    BYRON. 


It  is  difficult  for  an  American  citizen  to  realize  what  it  is  m 
England  to  be  a  lord.  Common  people  can  hardly  stand  up- 
right or  command  their  organs  of  speech  in  the  presence  of  a 
man  who  has  the  legal  right  to  jDlace  that  little  word,  107x1,  be- 
fore his  name.  One  reason  is,  I  suppose,  that  there  are  only 
four  or  five  hundred  lords  in  the  whole  British  empire,  so  that 
many  people  never  have  a  chance  to  see  that  a  lord  is,  after  all, 
only  a  man.  Another  reason  is,  that  lords  are  almost  always 
exceedingly  rich,  live  in  enormous  castles  or  splendid  mansions, 
and  ride  about  in  grand  carriages.  Then,  too,  most  of  them 
have  names  and  titles  which  are  met  with  in  history,  and  in 
Shakespeare,  and  ignorant  people  suppose  that  when  they  see 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  they  are  looking  upon  a  descendant 
of  "  my  lord  of  Buckingham,"  whose  head  was  cut  off  by  Kich- 
ard  III.  at  Salisbury.  In  addition  to  all  this,  a  lord  sits  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  and  holds  a  rank  in  the  commonwealth  similar 
to  that  of  senator  in  the  United  States. 

Of  course,  the  adulation  which  lords  receive,  even  from  their 
childhood,  has  an  effect  upon  themselves,  —  since  they  are  but 
men,  no  better  and  no  worse  than  others.  It  is  apt  to  make 
them  think  that  they  are  composed  of  a  superior  clay  to  that 
out  of  which  common  people  are  formed.  All  the  foolish  part 
of  them  fully  believe  that  they  differ  from  ordinary  mortals  as 
fine  porcelain  differs  from  the  red  material  of  flower-pots. 

Byron,  with  all  his  genius,  was  infatuated  with  this  ridiculous 
notion,  and  the  more  because  the  title  came  to  him  suddenly, 
when  he  was  just  old  enough  to  be  spoiled  by  it.  He  was  a 
school-boy,  ten  years  old  at  the  time,  living  in  Scotland  with  his 
mother,  who   had   an   income   of  one  hundred  and  thirty-five 


Fr 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  LOUD  BYRON.        289 

pounds  a  year,  equal  to  about  twenty-five  dollars  a  week  iu  our 
present  currency.  All  at  once  came  news  that  Lord  Byron,  the 
grand-uncle  of  the  boy,  was  dead,  leaving  no  heirs  to  his  title 
and  estates  except  this  poor  widow's  son.  Imagine  the  efiect 
upon  a  forward,  sensitive,  bashful,  imaginative  boy,  — painfully 
ashamed  because  he  had  a  lame  foot.  It  seems  that  he  was 
puzzled  at  first  with  his  new  lordship.  The  day  after  the  news 
arrived,  he  ran  up  to  his  mother,  and  said :  — 

"  Mother,  do  you  see  any  difference  in  me  since  I  became  a 
lord?     I  see  none." 

The  next  morning,  when  the  roll  was  called  at  school,  the 
teacher,  instead  of  calling  out  his  name,  George  Byron,  as  he 
had  always  done  before,  gave  it  with  the  title  prefixed  in  Latin, 
thus : — 

"  Dominus  George  Byron." 

The  boy  could  not  utter  the  usual  response,  "  Adsum  "  (1  am 
present) ,  so  paralyzed  was  he  by  his  emotions.  Pale  and  speech- 
less he  stood, with  the  eyes  of  the  whole  school  upon  him,  until 
he  found  relief  iu  a  gush  of  tears.  The  time  never  came  when 
he  could  take  a  rational  view  of  this  imaginary  honor.  His 
friend  and  biographer,  Thomas  Moore,  tells  us  that,  in  the 
height  of  his  celebrity,  he  was  more  proud  of  his  descent  from 
the  Byrons  who  came  over  from  Xormandy  with  William  the 
Conqueror,  than  of  being  the  most  admired  poet  of  his  time. 

Yet  his  ancestors  were  not  people  to  be  very  proud  of.  To 
the  immense  estates  granted  them  by  William  and  his  succes- 
sors, Henry  VIII.  added  others  from  the  spoils  of  the  church  ; 
which  made  the  family  one  of  the  richest  in  England.  Extrav- 
agance and  dissipation  so  reduced  its  wealth,  that  the  estate 
which  little  Byron  inherited  was  small  and  encumbered  with 
(3ebt,  —  small,  I  mean,  for  a  lord.  A  great  number  of  Bj'rons, 
however,  fought  bravely  in  the  ancient  wars ;  there  were  as 
many  as  seven  brothers  of  the  name  in  the  battle  of  Edgehill, 
during  the  civil  wars,  and  it  was  for  services  rendered  in  that 
long  contest,  that  Charles  L  ennobled  the  head  of  the  house, 
conferring  the  title  which  the  poet  inherited. 

Captain  Byron,  the  poet's  father,  possessed  the  worst  quali 
of  his  race.     He  was  most  recklessly  dissolute  and  extravag 

19 


290  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY- 

Having  squandered  his  own  fortune  and  that  of  his  first  wife, 
and  incurred  immense  debts,  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  Miss 
Catherine  Gordon,  a  silly,  romantic,  Scotch  girl  of  ancient 
family  and  large  fortune,  and  openly  avowed  his  intention  to 
marry  her  for  the  sole  purpose  of  paying  off  his  debts.  lu 
money,  stocks,  and  land,  the  young  lady  possessed  property 
equal  to  about  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  our  dollars ;  all  of 
which,  with  her  hand  and  heart,  she  bestowed  upon  this  hand- 
some, fascinating,  and  despicable  debauchee.  Before  the 
honeymoon  was  over,  a  crowd  of  creditors  came  upon  the 
husband  of  this  fine  estate.  First,  all  the  ready  money  was 
paid  away,  —  three  thousand  pounds.  Next  went  the  bank 
stock  and  fishery  shares,  —  a  thousand  pounds  more.  Then, 
fifteen  hundred  pounds'  worth  of  timber  was  cut  from  the  estate 
and  sold.  Next,  eight  thousand  pounds  were  raised  by  a  mort- 
gage on  the  estate,  and  all  paid  to  creditors.  Finally,  when 
they  had  been  married  less  than  two  years,  the  estate  was  sold, 
and  all  the  money  which  it  yielded  was  poured  into  the  bottom- 
less pit  of  Captain  Byron's  debts,  except  a  small  sum  necessary 
to  secure  Mrs.  Byron  the  annual  pittance  named  above.  When 
he  had  wrung  from  her  all  that  she  possessed,  and  even  made 
away  with  part  of  her  little  annuity,  he  abandoned  her  and  went 
off  to  the  continent,  leaving  to  her  care  their  only  son,  a  boy 
three  years  of  age.  Such  was  the  meanness  of  this  con- 
temptible animal,  and  such  the  infatuation  of  his  foolish  w^ife, 
that  he  actually  squeezed  out  of  her  slender  means  the  money 
that  paid  his  expenses  to  the  continent;  and  when  he  died, 
soon  after,  she  had  to  pay  more  than  a  hundred  pounds  of  small 
debts  incurred  by  him  just  before  his  departure.  She  loved 
him  to  the  last.  When  the  news  came  of  his  death,  she  threw 
herself  into  such  a  passion  of  grief  that  her  shrieks  could  be 
heard  by  the  passers-by  in  the  street  below. 

With  all  these  facts  before  him,  the  poet  could  still  be  proud 
that  he  was  a  Byron.     It  was  because  he  was  himself  a  Byron. 

Soon  after  his  accession  to  the  title  and  estate  of  his  grand 
uncle,  his  mother  sold  the  furniture  of  her  two  or  three  rooms 
in  Aberdeen  for  seventy-four  pounds,  and  removed  with  her 
boy  to  Nowstead  Abbey,  a  fine  old  mansion  in  Nottinghamshire, 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BYRON.       291 

which  Tlcnry  YIII.  had  given  to  the  family  when  he  hroke  up 
the  abbeys  and  monasteries,  two  hundred  and  sixty  years 
before. 

From  this  time  he  lived  the  usual  life  of  a  young  lord.  lie 
was  a  wilful,  active,  inquisitive,  affectionate  boy,  a  great  reader, 
an  irreixular  student,  and  excccdinHy  ambitious  to  excel  in  the 
sports  of  the  play-ground.  Three  times  before  he  was  fifteen 
he  thouirht  himself  in  love.  When  first  he  imaii^incd  himself  the 
victim  of  the  tender  passion  he  was  only  eight  years  of  age,  and 
he  cherished  so  fond  a  recollection  of  his  infant  flame,  that  when, 
at  the  age  of  sixteen,  his  mother  carelessly  told  him  that  his 
'*old  sweetheart,  Mary  Dufif,"  was  married,  he  was  nearly  thrown 
into  convulsions,  which  so  alarmed  his  mother  that  she  avoided 
mentioning  the  subject  to  him  ever  after.  At  twelve  he  thought 
himself  madly  in  love  with  a  beautiful  cousin.  "I  could  not 
sleep  —  I  could  not  eat  —  I  could  not  rest,"  he  afterwards  wrote. 
The  last  of  his  boyish  passions,  which  siezed  him  w^hen  he  was 
fifteen,  before  it  was  possible  for  him  to  have  been  really  in  love, 
was  not  so  violent  as  his  first ;  but  he  always  spoke  of  it  as 
something  exceedingly  serious.  The  lady  was  much  older  than 
himself,  and  very  properly  regarded  and  treated  him  as  a  school- 
boy. 

The  worst  enemy  he  ever  had  was  his  mother.  She  was  an 
ignorant,  foolish  woman,  disagreeable  in  her  appearance,  very 
fat  and  awkward,  capricious,  and  of  a  violent  temper.  She 
indulged  him  most  injuriously^  often  permitting  him  to  absent 
himself  from  school  for  a  week  at  a  time,  and  when  she  was 
angry  with  him,  her  rage  was  such  as  to  render  her  helpless, 
and  the  boy  would  run  away  from  her  and  laugh  at  her.  At 
last  Dr.  Glennie,  the  master  of  his  school,  appealed  to  Lord 
Carlisle,  the  legal  guardian  of  the  boy,  and  besought  him  to 
interfere.  Supported  by  the  guardian's  authority,  he  denied 
him  the  privilege  of  going  home  on  Saturday  ;  whereupon  ]\Irs. 
Byron,  indignant  at  being  deprived  of  the  society  of  her  son, 
would  go  to  the  school,  and  pour  out  such  a  storm  of  invective 
in  the  doctor's  parlor,  that  the  boys  in  the  school-room  would 
hear  her,  to  the  great  shame  of  the  young  lord.  The  school- 
master once  overheard  a  boy  say  to  him  :  — 


292      PEOPLE  S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

^'BjTon,  your  mother  is  a  fool." 

"I  know  it,"  was  his  sad  reply. 

When  we  think  of  this  fatherless  boy,  with  the  blood  of  the 
Byrons  in  his  veins,  subjected  to  the  fondness  and  violence  of 
this  foolish  mother,  we  ought  to  Avonder,  not  that  he  was  so  wild 
and  ignoble  a  man,  but  that  there  was  any  good  in  him  at  all. 
There  was  much  good  in  him.  Oue  of  his  school-fellows  at 
Harrow  was  the  great  Sir  Eobert  Peel,  who  used  to  relate  an 
anecdote  of  B3'ron  that  does  him  much  honor.  A  great  bully 
was  tormenting  little  Peel  most  cruelly  one  day,  by  inflicting 
blows  with  a  stick  upon  the  inside  flesh  of  one  of  his  arms, 
which  the  brute  twisted  round  for  the  purpose.  Byron  chanced 
to  see  his  little  friend  writhing  under  the  tortm-e,  and  was  half 
convulsed  with  rage  and  pity.  Unable  to  fight  the  tormentor, 
he  came  up  to  him,  with  tears  rolling  down  his  face,  red  with 
fury,  and  said  in  a  low,  humble  tone  :  — 

" How  many  stripes  do  you  mean  to  inflict?" 

"  Why,  you  little  rascal/'  roared  the  bully,  "  what  is  that  to 
you?" 

"  Because,  if  you  please,"  said  Byron,  holding  up  his  arm. 
« I  will  take  half." 

He  was,  like  his  mother,  apt  to  be  violent  in  all  things,  even 
in  his  attachment  to  other  school-boys.  We  have  one  of  his 
school  letters,  in  which  he  reproaches  one  of  his  friends  for  be- 
ginning his  last  letter  "  My  dear  Byron,"  instead  of  "My  dear- 
est Byron."  In  the  defence  of  his  friends  he  was  a  very  valiant 
champion.  One  of  them  being  weak  from  a  recent  sickness, 
was  ill  fitted  to  fight  his  way  in  a  great  concourse  of  rough  boys, 
and  Byron  said  to  him  :  — 

"  Harness,  if  any  one  bullies  you,  tell  me,  and  I'll  thrash  him 
if  I  can." 

He  kept  his  word,  and  the  two  boys  remained  fast  friends  for 
many  years. 

At  college  he  was  still  a  desultory  student,  an  omniverous 
reader,  an  ardent  friend,  and  a  devotee  of  active  sports.  He 
became,  through  incessant  practice,  an  excellent  shot,  an  expert 
boatman,  and  one  of  the  best  swimmers  in  Europe,  and,  as  he 
grew  to  manhood,  he  became  exceedingly  handsome.     His  col- 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BYRON.       293 

lege  friendships  "svcrc  more  like  the  romantic  passion  of  a  youth 
for  a  lovely  girl  than  an  attachment  between  persons  of  the  same 
sex.  At  college,  too,  his  old  habit  of  writing  verses  grew  upon 
him  to  such  a  degree  that  by  the  time  he  was  eighteen  he  had 
enough  poems  in  his  desk  for  a  volume.  His  youthful  poetry 
was  pleasing  enough,  and  generally  creditable  to  him,  though 
the  fire  and  audacity  of  his  later  productions  do  not  appear  in 
it.  As  a  specimen,  the  following  lines  may  be  given,  w^ritteu 
when  he  was  about  seventeen,  on  discovering  that  a  tree  that  he 
had  planted  was  dying  :  — 

"Young  Oak,  when  I  planted  thee  deep  in  the  ground, 
I  hoped  that  thy  days  would  be  longer  than  mine,  — 
That  thy  dark,  waving  branches  would  flourish  around, 
And  ivy  thy  trunk  with  its  mantle  entwine. 

<*  Such,  such  was  my  hope  when,  in  infancy's  years, 
On  the  land  of  my  fathers  I  reared  thee  with  pride. 
They  are  past,  and  I  water  thy  stem  with  my  tears,  — 
Thy  decay,  not  the  weeds  that  surround  thee  can  hide.** 

There  was  no  harm  in  such  mild  verses  as  these,  and  there 
was  some  promise  of  better  things. 

On  leaviuEf  colleo^e,  he  a2:ain  resided  with  his  mother,  whose 
furious  temper  age  had  not  subdued.  In  her  paroxysms  of  an- 
ger, she  would  throw  at  him  the  poker  and  tongs,  and  not  un- 
frequently  he  had  to  fly  from  the  house  before  her.  At  the  age 
of  nineteen  his  first  volume  of  verses  appeared,  entitled  :  — 

"Hours  of  Idleness.  A  Series  of  Poems,  original  and  trans- 
lated. By  George  Gordon  —  Lord  Byron  —  a  minor.  New- 
ark, 1807." 

In  his  long  and  egotistical  preface,  he  said  that  this,  his  first 
publication,  would  also  be  his  last,  as  it  was  not  at  all  likely 
that  a  man  of  his  rank  and  expectations  would  pursue  literature 
any  farther.  The  volume  had  some  success,  received  some 
praise  in  the  press,  and  all  was  going  well  -svith  it,  until  the  first 
day  of  the  year  1808,  when  that  number  of  the  "Edinburgh  Re- 
view "  appeared,  which  contained  the  celebrated  article  that  stung 
the  poet  so  cruelly. 

"The  poesy  of  this  young  lord,"  began  the  reviewer,  "be- 


294  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

longs  to  tLe  class  which  neither  gods  nor  men  are  said  to  per^ 
mit.  .  .  .  His  effusions  are  spread  over  a  dead  flat,  and  can  no 
more  get  above  or  below  the  level  than  if  they  were  so  much 
stagnant  water."  And  so  on  for  three  bantering  pages,  inter- 
spersed with  specimens  of  the  noble  "  minor's  "  stanzas. 

This  stinging  satire,  which  w^ould  have  crushed  some  young 
writers  of  verses,  fixed  Lord  Byron  in  the  career  of  letters. 
Promptly  and  vigorously  he  retorted  in  his  poem,  "  English 
Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers,"  in  which  he  sung  thus  of  the 
editor  of  the  "Edinburgh  Review"  :  — 

**  Health  to  immortal  Jeffrey !     Once,  in  name, 
England  could  boast  a  judge  almost  the  same, 
In  soul  so  like,  so  merciful  and  just, 
Some  think  that  Satan  has  resigned  his  trust, 
And  given  the  spirit  to  the  world  again. 
To  sentence  letters,  as  he  sentenced  men. 
With  hand  less  mighty,  but  with  heart  as  black, 
"With  voice  as  willing  to  decree  the  rack ; 
Bred  in  the  courts,  betimes,  though  all  that  law 
As  yet  hath  taught  him  is  to  find  a  flaw." 

He  proceeds  to  say  that  perhaps,  if  the  whigs  come  into  pow- 
er, Jefii'ey  may  become  a  judge,  and  if  so,  Jeffries,  his  prede- 
cessor on  the  bench,  might  greet  him  thus,  while  presenting  him 
with  a  rope  :  — 

**  Hejp  to  my  virtues !  man  of  equal  mind ! 
Skilled  to  condemn  as  to  traduce  mankind. 
This  cord  receive  —  for  thee  reserved  with  care  — 
To  wield  with  judgment,  and  at  length  to  wear." 

This  witty  poem,  in  which  all  the  noted  authors  of  Scotland 
were  remorselessly  lashed,  ran  through  many  editions,  and  suf- 
ficiently consoled  the  wounded  self-love  of  the  young  poet. 
The  fame,  however,  of  Lord  Byron,  dates  from  his  twenty- 
fourth  year,  when  the  publication  of  the  first  cantos  of  Childe 
Harold  revealed  to  England  the  full  splendor  of  his  talents. 

"  I  awoke   one   morning,"  said  he,    "  and  found  myself  fa 
mous." 

Such  was  his  popularity  at  one  time,  that  ten  thousand  copies 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  LOUD  BYROX.        2D5 

of  ouc  of  his  poems  were  sold  on  the  clay  of  its  puljllculion  at 
a  price  equal  to  nearly  ten  dollars  each.  But  his  errors  as  a 
man  soon  lost  him  the  esteem  of  his  countrymen  ;  he  was  almost 
as  extravagant  as  his  ftither,  and  quite  as  dissolute,  and,  likehia 
father,  he  squandered  the  fortune  of  his  wife  after  he  had  ceased 
to  be  a  husband  to  her. 


296  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP     BIOGRAPHY. 


FERNANDO  MAGALHAENS. 


This  name,  Magalhaens,  appears  on  our  maps  as  Magellan. 
Every  school-boy  knows  Magellan's  Straits  and  Magellan's  Ar- 
chipelago, so  named  in  honor  of  their  heroic  and  ill-fated  dis- 
coverer. They  were  not  so  named  by  himself,  however.  Good 
Catholic  as  he  w^as,  he  called  the  passage  between  Patagonia  and 
Terra  del  Fueofo  the  Strait  of  the  Eleven  Thousand  Viro:ins. 
But  this  appellation  was  more  pious  than  convenient,  and,  after 
the  tragic  death  of  Magalhaens,  navigators  called  the  strait  by 
the  name  it  now  bears. 

Fernando  Magalhaens,  a  native  of  Portugal,  was  a  boy  about 
twelve  years  of  age  when  the  news  of  Columbus'  great  discov- 
ery and  safe  return  reached  Oporto,  the  city  of  his  birth  and 
education.  At  that  time,  Portugal,  under  the  rule  of  an  enter- 
prising and  fortunate  king,  w^as  far  more  powerful  and  important 
than  she  is  at  present.  It  was  a  Portuguese  fleet  that  first  found 
the  way  to  the  East  Indies  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope ;  and  this 
led  to  a  great  and  profitable  trade  with  the  Indies,  w^hich  for 
many  years  enabled  Portugal  to  take  a  leading  part  iu  the  dis- 
covery and  exploration  of  the  western  w-orld.  When  Magal- 
haens came  upon  the  stage  of  action,  the  King  of  Portugal  had 
a  numerous  fleet,  a  great  revenue,  an  imposing  name,  and  ex- 
tensive possessions  in  Asia.  Such  was  his  importance,  that  the 
Pope,  in  deciding  rival  claims  to  the  newdy  found  lands  and 
islands,  gave  one-half  to  Spain  and  one-half  to  Portugal. 

Magalhaens  entered  the  Portuguese  navy  at  an  early  age,  and 
served  in  it  with  distinction  for  many  years.  He  was  in  that 
famous  expedition  of  the  renowned  Admiral  Albuquerque,  which 
ravaged  the  coasts  of  Africa  and  Asia  for  five  years,  and  captured 
an  enormous  booty.     Magalhaens  took  part  in  the  siege  and 


FERNANDO    MAGALIIAENS.  297 

Back  of  JVIaliicca,  Avhcrc  Albuquerque  took  such  a  quiuitily  of 
treasure  that  the  kiug's  share,  ^vhich  was  one-fifth,  amouutcd  to 
five  millions  of  dollars.  In  the  division  of  this  vast  plunder, 
the  leaders  of  the  expedition  quarrelled.  Magalhaens,  conceiv- 
ing that  he  was  defrauded  of  his  proper  share,  threw  up  his 
commission,  and  never  sailed  again  under  the  flag  of  his  native 
country. 

He  made  his  way  to  the  court  of  Charles  Y. ,  then  the  first 
monarch  in  Europe,  and  ofiered  his  services  to  him.  He  now 
appears  as  the  enemy  of  his  own  king.  The  great  object  of 
desire,  on  the  part  of  the  King  of  Spain  and  the  King  of  Portu- 
gal, w\as  the  possession  of  the  Spice  Islands  ;  and  it  was  uncer- 
tain to  which  of  those  kings  the  Pope's  Bull  assigned  them. 
Mairalhaens  told  the  ministers  of  Charles  V.  that  those  coveted 
islands  were  on  the  Spanish  side  of  the  line  fixed  by  the  Pope 
as  the  line  of  division,  and  ofiered  to  reach  them  by  sailing  to 
the  west  instead  of  the  east.  Like  Columbus,  Cabot,  and  Fro- 
bisher,  this  Portuguese  navigator  was  fully  possessed  with  the 
belief  that  there  must  be  a  western  passage  to  Asia ;  and  he 
took  this  method  to  enlist  in  the  cause  the  avarice  of  the  King 
of  Spain. 

Charles  V.  lent  a  willing  ear  to  his  arguments,  and  was  con- 
vinced by  them.  Five  vessels — the  smallest  sixty,  the  largest 
one  hundred  and  thirty  tons  —  were  placed  under  his  command, 
and  furnished  with  everything  that  could  conduce  to  the  success 
of  the  expedition.  The  crews  of  these  vessels  numbered  two 
hundred  and  thirty-four,  mostly  of  Spanish  birth,  and  the  cap- 
tains of  the  ships  were  all  Spanish.  I  need  scarcely  remind  the 
reader  that  there  has  always  been,  between  the  Spanish  and  the 
Portuguese,  a  certain  antipathy,  the  Spaniard  being  strongly 
disposed  to  look  down  with  contempt  upon  the  people  of  the 
little  kingdom. 

August  10th,  1519,  Admiral  Magalhaens  sailed  from  Seville, 
and  reached  the  coast  of  Brazil  in  the  middle  of  December. 
He  then  steered  to  the  south,  and,  sailing  close  in  shore,  looked 
out  anxiously  to  find  a  break  in  the  continent  which  would  let 
him  into  the  great  ocean  that  washed  the  shores  of  Asia,  and 
encircled  the  rich  islands  of  which  he  was  in  quest.     The  broad 


298  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGKAPHY. 

mouth  of  the  La  Plata  lured  him  in  at  length.  He  eutered  it, 
but  discovering  soon  that  it  was  only  a  river,  he  dropped  down 
the  stream,  and  resumed  his  run  along  the  coast. 

In  March,  1520,  seven  months  after  leaving  Spain,  he  came 
to  anchor  in  one  of  the  harbors  of  Patagonia.  Winter  had  set 
in,  and  he  was  detained  there  five  weary  months,  during  which 
his  Spanish  captains  became  discontented,  and  at  length  con- 
spired to  resist  his  authority.  In  quelling  this  incipient  mutiny, 
he  resorted  to  the  most  desperate  measures.  One  of  the  cap- 
tains he  caused  to  be  assassinated ;  two  others  he  hanged  ;  the 
fourth,  with  a  priest  who  was  his  accomplice,  he  set  ashore  and 
left  them  to  their  fate  among  the  Indians.  The  winter  wore 
away  at  length,  and  on  the  20th  of  August  (spring  in  those 
latitudes)  he  resumed  his  southward  course.  It  was  two  months 
later  before  he  entered  the  strait  which  now  bears  his  name. 

Magellan's  Strait,  which  looks  so  insignificant  on  the  map,  is 
three  hundred  miles  long,  and  varies  in  width  from  a  mile  and 
a  half  to  thirty  miles.  The  shores  are  lofty,  rugged,  and  pre- 
cipitous, rising,  in  'some  places,  to  a  height  of  three  thousand 
feet ;  and  the  water  is  so  deep  that  lines  sunk  to  the  depth  of 
fifteen  hundred  feet  have  not  reached  the  bottom.  The  naviga- 
tion, however,  is  difficult  and  dangerous,  owing  to  the  currents, 
the  reefs,  the  abrupt  turns,  and  the  changeful,  boisterous  winds. 
Our  clipper  ships,  on  their  voyages  to  California,  prefer  to  en- 
counter the  tempests  ofi*  Cape  Horn  than  to  thread  this  long  and 
perilous  defile.  At  the  very  entrance  one  of  Admiral  Magal- 
haens'  vessels  was  wrecked.  Another  turned  back  when  it  was 
half  through,  and  made  its  way  to  Spain.  The  three  remaining 
ships  struggled  on  for  ^ve  weeks,  and  then  emerged  into  the 
broad  and  tranquil  ocean,  w^hich  the  Admiral  named  the  Pacitic. 

Confident  in  his  theory,  he  spread  his  sails  and  ventured  forth 
upon  this  unknown  sea.  Week  after  week  he  sailed  before  the 
gentle  breezes  of  the  Pacific,  seeing  no  land  except  one  or  tw^o 
small,  barren,  uninhabited  islands.  Plis  provisions  ran  low,  his 
supply  of  water  was  nearly  exhausted,  and  his  men  were  wasted 
by  disease  and  hunger.  For  thirteen  weeks  he  held  his  course, 
uncheered  by  any  sign  that  he  was  approaching  the  object  of  his 
search,  or  any  land  from  which  he  could  get  food  or  water. 


PERNANDO    MAGALnAENS.  299 

To  turn  back,  however,  had  been  still  more  hopeless.  lie  had 
no  choice  but  to  sail  od,  until  he  had  consumed  his  last  biscuit 
and  his  last  cask  of  water. 

On  the  ninety-second  day  after  clearing  the  strait,  land  was 
descried.  The  joy  of  those  navigators  can  be  imagined,  when 
this  land  proved  to  be  a  group  of  fertile  and  inhabited  islands, 
abounding  in  food.  The  dusk3'  natives  were  such  arrant  thieves, 
that  the  admiral  named  the  islands  the  Ladroncs,  which  name 
they  bear  to  the  present  day.  When  he  landed  there,  he  had 
been  absent  from  Spain  five  hundred  and  thirty-three  days,  dur- 
ing most  of  which  he  had  been  in  seas  never  before  traversed  by 
man. 

After  a  few  days'  stay  at  the  Ladrones,  this  intrepid  discov- 
erer resumed  his  voyage.  lie  was  now  in  a  part  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean  which  is  so  thickly  studded  with  islands  that  he  could  not 
go  far  without  finding  new  groups.  In  a  few  days  he  came  to 
the  islands  afterwards  named  the  Philippines.  Here  his  long 
voyaging  was  destined  to  terminate.  Kot  content  with  taking 
possession  of  the  islands  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  Spain,  he 
was  anxious  to  convert  the  natives  to  Christianity,  and  to  have 
them  at  once  baptized.  The  king  of  the  principal  island  agreed, 
it  appears,  to  become  Christian,  and  make  his  subjects  Chris- 
tian, and  pay  tribute  to  the  King  of  Spain,  provided  Admiral 
Magalhaens  would  render  him  supreme  monarch  over  all  the 
islands  of  the  group.  The  admiral,  in  an  evil  hour,  accepted 
the  condition.  He  landed  sixty  armed  men  upon  the  island  of  the 
most  contumacious  chief,  who  met  this  little  band  with  an  army 
of  fifteen  hundred  Indian  w\arriors.  A  long  and  fierce  conflict 
ensued,  —  the  Indians  unappalled  by  the  Spaniards'  firearms. 
Magalhaens  fought  on  all  day,  until  his  men  had  expended  their 
ammunition,  and  then  ordered  a  retreat  to  the  boats.  This 
movement  was  executed  in  confusion,  under  a  shower  of  stones. 
The  admiral  being  in  the  post  of  danger,  nearest  the  savages, 
was  knocked  senseless  by  a  large  stone,  when  an  Indian  ran  up 
and  thrust  a  spear  through  his  body,  which  was  fatal. 

His  followers  hastened  away  from  that  bloody  shore,  and 
made  all  sail  for  Spain.  In  September,  1522,  one  little  vessel 
of  Magalhaens'  fleet,  with  eighteen  men  on  board,  entered  the 


300  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

harbor  of  Seville, — the  sole  relics  of  the  expedition.  This 
vessel,  which  was  named  the  Vittoria,  was  the  first  which  ever 
sailed  round  the  globe,  and  the  name  of  her  commander  was 
Juan  Sebastian  Cano.  She  was  three  years  and  one  month  in 
making  the  voyage.  Magalhaens  ranks  verj^  high  among  the 
wonderful  navigators  of  his  time.  In  point  of  courage  and  per- 
severance he  was  surpassed  by  none  of  them.  But  his  valor 
sometimes  degenerated  into  rashness,  and  his  firmness  into 
cruelty. 


SIE    HUMPUREY    DAVT.  301 


SIR   HUMPHREY   DAVY. 


-•o*- 


In  the  spring  of  1801  the  fashionable  world  of  London  was 
much  excited  by  the  appearance  upon  the  platform  of  the  Royal 
Institution  of  a  new  lecturer  upon  chemistry,  who  exhibited  a 
singular  talent  for  making  science  entertaining.  It  may  seem 
strange  to  readers  of  to-day  that  we  should  speak  of  the  world 
of  fashion  in  connection  with  science.  At  present,  people  of 
fashion,  following  the  lead  of  Louis  Napoleon's  wife,  appear 
wholly  abandoned  to  frivolity,  and  know  no  nobler  pleasures 
than  the  exhibition  of  extravagant  wearing  apparel.  But  during 
the  latter  part  of  the  last  century  and  the  beginning  of  this, 
science  was  in  vogue,  and  it  was  common  to  see  brilliant  assem- 
blies of  the  wealthy  and  high-born  in  the  lecture-rooms  of  sci- 
entific institutions. 

Humphrey  Davy  was  the  name  of  the  lecturer  of  whom  we 
have  spoken.  People  who,  attracted  by  his  celebrity,  went  to 
the  hall  expecting  to  see  a  grave  and  venerable  philosopher  in 
pigtail  and  powder,  were  astonished  to  behold  a  young  man  of 
fresh  complexion  and  chestnut  curls,  full  of  youthful  vivacity 
and  spirit,  with  a  voice  exceedingly  musical,  and  a  style  in  w^hich 
the  facts  and  the  poetry  of  science  found  expression  equally 
happy.  In  reality  he  was  twenty-three,  but  he  looked  eigh- 
teen. Being  slightly  undersized,  and  having  a  small,  boyish 
face,  he  was  once  taken  for  a  boy  by  a  lady  who  had  come  to 
visit  him,  and  who  chanced  to  see  him  reading  before  she  knew 
who  he  was.  Great  was  her  astonishment,  when  she  was  intro- 
duced to  the  distinguished  Mr,  Davy,  and  found  him  to  be  the 
youth  "  with  the  little  brown  head "  whom  she  had  carelessly 
passed  on  entering  the  house. 

The  brilliancy  of  Davy's  debut  in  London  proved  to  be  tho 


302  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGEAPHY. 

opening  of  a  long  and  brilliant  career.  Year  after  j^ear  he  con-« 
tinned  to  lectnre,  and  to  attract  great  assemblies  of  those  who 
came  to  be  instructed,  and  those  who  came  because  chemistry 
and  Humphrey  Davy  were  in  fashion.  With  all  his  youthful 
liveliness,  with  all  his  fluency  and  eloquence,  he  was  an  honest 
and  earnest  teacher,  whose  public  ministrations  were  sustained 
by  laborious  private  study  and  experiment. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  life  of  this  eminent  man  was  that  he 
was  always  fortunate.  He  appears  to  have  always  had  just  what 
he  wanted,  and  just  when  he  wanted  it. 

Six  3^ears  before  his  appearance  in  London  he  was  a  father- 
less lad,  living  in  a  small  country  town  in  far-ofi"  Cornwall, 
where  his  widowed  mother  kept  a  little  milliner's  shop.  He 
had  attended  the  best  school  in  the  neighborhood  for  several 
years,  where  he  was  only  known  as  a  bright,  forward  boy, 
somewhat  studious,  very  fond  of  poetry  and  fishing,  but  not 
noted  for  any  particular  inclination  toward  science.  He  was 
simply  a  good,  merry,  English  school-boy,  doing  his  duty  in 
the  school-room,  but  happiest  in  the  fields  among  his  fellows 
with  a  fishing-rod  or  a  cricket-bat  in  his  hands.  The  death  of 
his  father,  an  intelligent,  speculative  man,  who  left  his  afiairs 
in  great  disorder,  consigned  his  mother  to  a  milliner's  shop,  and 
changed  him  from  a  school-boy  into  an  apothecary's  apprentice. 
A  shade  of  seriousness  gathered  over  him.  He  had  become  a 
man.  His  private  note-books  of  the  first  two  years  of  his  ap- 
prenticeship have  been  preserved,  and  they  show  us,  that  when 
his  day's  work  of  compounding  drugs  was  done,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing: before  it  beo:un,  he  was  a  hard  student.  He  went  throuo^h 
a  complete  course  of  arithmetic,  algebra,  geometry,  and  trigo- 
nometry, besides  reading  the  metaphysical  works  of  Locke, 
Hartley,  Berkley,  Hume,  Helvetius,  Condorcet,  and  Reid.  He 
also  learned  the  French  language. 

He  was  no  mere  bookworm,  however,  nor  a  Hogarth's  "  good 
apprentice."  He  found  time,  now  and  then,  for  a  half  a  day's 
fishing  or  shooting,  and  played  many  a  good  game  of  billiards. 
Billiard-balls,  indeed,  were  his  first  known  teachers  of  science. 
It  was  his  fondness  for  that  game  that  led  him  to  study  tho 


\ 


SIR    HUMPHREY     DAVY.  303 

liws  of  repulsion  ;  hoping,  by  getting  the  true  theory,  to  beat 
his  young  friends  in  practice. 

The  study  of  metaphysics  had  upon  his  mind  the  same  effect 
that  it  had  upon  Benjamin  Franklin's.  Unsatisfied  with  a 
science  -which,  as  then  pursued,  led  to  unccrtaint}^  and  confu- 
sion, he  was  drawn  away  to  one  which  rewards  the  faitliful  stu- 
dent with  positive  and  useful  truths.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
third  year  of  his  apprenticeship,  and  the  nineteenth  of  his  age, 
he  began,  with  a  boy's  usual  apparatus  of  tobacco-pipes,  tea- 
cups, wine-glasses,  and  earthen  crucibles,  to  study  and  experi- 
ment in  chemistry. 

Everything  helped  him.  His  master  was  a  man  of  much 
scientific  knowledge,  and  had  a  considerable  library,  to  which 
the  apprentice  had  access.  A  son  of  the  celebrated  James 
Watt  came  to  reside  in  the  town,  w^hose  conversation  was  a 
great  advantage  to  the  young  chemist.  The  copper  and  tin 
mines  of  the  vicinity,  the  sea-weed  on  the  shore,  the  drugs  em- 
plo3^ed  in  his  profession,  all  furnished  objects  of  investigation; 
and  he  pursued  his  studies  with  an  ardor  and  devotion  that  never 
fail  to  produce  important  results.  Chemistry  Avas  not  then  what 
it  is  now.  He  was  able  in  a  few  months  to  master  all  that  pre- 
vious explorers  had  discovered,  and  then  he  struck  boldly  into 
untrodden  paths. 

So  passed  the  last  two  years  of  his  apprenticeship.  At  twenty, 
such  was  his  provincial  celebrity,  he  was  invited  to  a  post  in  a 
new  medical  institution  at  Bristol,  founded  for  the  purpose  of 
administering  various  gases  for  the  cure  of  disease.  His  busi- 
ness there  was  to  prepare  and  administer  the  gases, — an  em- 
ployment admirably  calculated  to  give  him  dexterity  in  experi- 
menting, and  fixmiliarity  with  fundamental  principles  ;  for  what 
is  chemistry  but  the  science  of  gases  ?  It  was  at  this  institu  ■ 
tion  that  he  first  inhaled  the  gas  now  called  "  laughing  gas,'* 
but  which  he  then  styled  "the  pleasure-producing  air."  He  was 
the  first  man  in  the  world  who  ever  enjoyed  this  species  of  in- 
toxication. He  used  to  inhale  the  gas  from  a  bag,  just  as  it  is 
now  administered,  audit  produced  upon  him  precisely  the  effects 
w^hich  most  of  us  have  experienced  or  witnessed. 

A  volume  of  essays  published  by  him  at  Bristol,  extended  his 


304  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

fame  to  the  metropolis,  and  led  to  his  being  appointed  professor 
of  chemistry  at  the  Royal  Institution.  Hence  his  appearance, 
at  the  early  age  of  twenty-three,  upon  a  London  platform, 
where,  as  we  have  seen,  his  youth,  his  simplicity,  his  eloquence, 
and  his  dexterity  in  conducting  experiments  made  him  for  many 
years  a  popular  lion. 

At  the  Eoyal  Institution  he  had  everything  that  a  man  of 
science  can  desire.  A  liberal  income  gave  him  the  command 
of  all  his  time.  A  complete  laboratory  afforded  him  the  means 
of  pursuing  his  investigations.  A  number  of  competent  as- 
sistants were  at  hand  to  aid  him.  Sympathetic  friends  wit- 
nessed and  encouraged  his  labors,  and  the  applause  of  the  pub- 
lic cheered  and  stimulated  him.  He  went  to  the  laboratory  in 
the  morning  as  a  workman  goes  to  his  shop,  labored  all  day 
amid  his  furnaces,  his  crucibles,  and  his  retoi-ts,  and  in  the 
evening  resumed  his  broadcloth,  and  either  repaired  to  the 
lecture-room,  or  went  out  to  dinner. 

We  cannot,  of  course,  relate  his  discoveries.  We  can  merely 
state,  that  it  was  Davy  who  gave  the  great  impulse  to  agricultu- 
ral chemistry,  —  a  branch  of  science  which  has  already  revolu- 
tionized farming  in  the  Old  World,  and  which  is  destined  to  be 
the  farmer's  best  friend  in  the  New.  It  was  he  who  applied 
chemistr^^  to  the  art  of  tanning.  It  was  he  who  discovered  that 
diamond  is  nothing  but  crystallized  charcoal,  and  he  who  found 
out  how  to  convert  whiskey  into  tolerable  brandy.  His  discov- 
eries in  galvanism  and  electricity  were  striking  and  valuable, 
and  they  have  been  further  developed  by  his  celebrated  pupil 
and  friend,  Faraday. 

Of  all  his  inventions,  the  one  w^hich  he  and  his  contempora- 
ries valued  most  was  the  safety-lamp,  to  prevent  the  explosion 
of  fire-damp  in  mines.  This  lamp,  which  is  merely  a  lantern 
made  of  wire-gauze,  was  the  result  of  an  exhaustive  investiga- 
tion of  the  nature  and  composition  of  the  explosive  gas. 

At  the  age  of  thirty-two  he  married  a  widow  of  large  fortune. 
By  way  of  wedding-gift,  the  Prince  Regent  dubbed  him  a 
knight,  so  that  he  was  known  henceforth  as  Sir  Humphrey  Davy. 
After  his  invention  of  the  safety-lamp,  he  was  further  distin- 
guished by  a  baronetcy.    He  died  in  May,  1829,  aged  fifty-one, 


SIR    IIUMrilKEY      DAVY.  305 

at  Geneva,  in  Switzerland,  whither  he  had  gone  for  the  benefit 
of  his  health.  lie  was  buried  at  Geneva,  where  an  ol)clisk  was 
placed  over  his  remains  by  his  w^ifc. 

Two  of  his  biographers  assert  that  such  constant  and  remark- 
able good  fortune  had  an  injurious  efiect  upon  his  character. 
They  say  that  he  became  proud,  arrogant,  and  irritaljle,  neg- 
lected his  old  friends,  and  paid  servile  court  to  the  tilled  and 
rich.  His  brother,  who  was  also  his  biographer,  denies  this 
with  warmth.  Certainly  his  published  letters  appear  to  show 
that  he  remained  to  the  last  a  dutiful  son,  a  generous,  affection- 
ate brother,  and  a  steadfast  friend  to  the  companions  of  his  early 
years.  It  may  be,  however,  that  associating  with  a  society 
which  acknowledged  George  TV.  as  its  chief,  he  may  not  wholly 
have  escaped  an  evil  influence  which  perverted  and  misled  Sir 
Walter  Scott. 

The  basis  of  his  character,  however,  both  as  a  man  and  as  a 
philosopher,  was  sound.  As  a  man,  he  was  honest,  pure,  and 
kind ;  as  a  philosopher,  he  truly  loved  and  laboriously  sought 
knowledge,  and  prided  himself  most  upon  having  rendered  some 
service  to  his  species  in  lessening  the  perils  of  honest  labor. 

The  followino:  are  a  few  sentences  from  a  letter  which  he  wrote 
to  his  brother,  who  w^as  just  entering  college  :  — 

"  My  dear  John,  — Let  no  difficulties  alarm  you.  You  may 
be  what  you  please.  Preserve  the  dignity  of  your  mind,  and 
the  purity  of  your  moral  conduct.  Move  straight  forward  on 
to  moral  and  intellectual  excellence.  Let  no  example  induce 
you  to  violate  decorum — no  ridicule  prevent  you  from  guarding 
against  sensuality  or  vice.  Live  in  such  a  way  that  you  can 
always  say,  the  whole  world  may  know  what  I  am  doing." 

20 


^06  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


SIR   MARTIN    FROBISHER. 


When  Kossuth  visited  the  tomb  of  Washingtou,  he  stood 
silent  before  it  a  for  several  minutes,  and  then  said,  as  he  turned 
to  leave  the  place,  — 

"How  necessary  it  is  to  be  successful !  " 

A  braver  man  than  Martin  Frobisher  never  sailed  the  sea  or 
trod  the  land.  He  exhibited  all  the  grand  traits  of  Columbus  in 
the  fullest  measure,  and  possessed  some  sturdy  virtues  which 
the  Italian  navigator  could  not  boast ;  but  as  no  unique  success 
rewarded  his  heroic  endeavors,  he  is  only  known  to  ordinary 
readers  as  an  adventurous  sailor,  who  discovered  and  srave  his 
name  to  Frobisher's  Straits,  one  of  the  passages  leading  into 
Hudson's  Bay. 

He  was  born  in  Yorkshire  about  the  year  1530,  thirty-eight 
years  after  the  discovery  of  America.  Yorkshiremen  are  the 
Yankees  of  Old  England ;  they  are  sharper,  tougher,  more  en- 
terprising and  persevering,  less  amiable  and  polite,  than  the  peo- 
ple of  the  more  southern  counties  of  England.  Some  of  them 
are  exceedingly  hard  bargainers,  and  very  rough  in  their  man- 
ners. Take  them  for  all  in  all,  however,  they  are  the  people 
that  contribute  most  to  the  strength  and  prosperity  of  the  Brit- 
ish empire  ;  and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  meet  among  them  men 
in  whom  are  happily  united  the  force  of  a  Yorkshireman  with 
the  suavity  of  a  man  of  Kent  or  Sussex. 

During  the  early  years  of  this  man's  life,  the  one  topic  that 
absorbed  the  minds  of  intelligent  men  was  the  progressive  dis- 
covery of  the  Western  World.  Geography  w^as  the  favorite  and 
the  fashionable  study ;  maps  were  among  the  most  precious  of 
possessions  ;  and  navigators  wdio  had  taken  part  in  the  voyages 
to  America  were  held  'n  universal  honor.      Frobisher,  being 


SIR    MARTIN    FROBISIIER.  307 

himself  a  siilor,  was  naturally  drawn  to  the  consideration  of 
what  sailors  were  achieving. 

Like  Soljastian  Cal)ot,  and  all  other  Englishmen  of  that  day, 
Captain  Frobisher  attached  small  importance  to  the  territory 
discovered  in  the  West.  The  grand  object  of  solicitude  was  to 
jSnd  a  shorter  way  to  the  rich  countries  of  Asia,. —  the  lands  of 
spice,  gold,  diamonds,  and  the  rich  fabrics  which  adorned  the 
palaces  and  persons  of  kings.  So  possessed  was  Captain  Fro- 
bisher of  the  importance  of  discovering  a  north-western  passage 
to  Asia,  that  he  felt  it  was  the  only  thing  remaining  to  be  done 
by  which  a  "notable  mind  might  be  made  famous  and  fortunate." 

Not  having  himself  the  means  of  fitting  out  an  expedition,  he 
endeavored  to  interest  the  merchants  and  nobles  of  England  in 
the  scheme  ;  but  for  fifteen  years  he  strove  in  vain.  At  length 
he  found  a  patron  in  the  powerful  Earl  of  Warwick,  by  Avhose 
assistance  and  that  of  his  friends  three  vessels  were  prepared, 
and  Captain  Frobisher  was  placed  in  command. 

Nothinii:  is  more  startlino;  to  the  modern  reader  than  the  small- 
ness  of  the  vessels  employed  in  the  early  voyages  of  discovery. 
Here  was  an  expedition  fitted  out  for  a  voyage  of  many  thou- 
sand miles  in  unkuown  seas,  and  the  largest  of  the  three  vessels 
was  thirty  tons  burthen ;  the  next  twenty  tons ;  and  the  smallest 
ten. 

The  boat  carried  on  the  deck  of  an  emigrant  ship  is  sometimes 
of  twenty  or  thirty  tons  burthen ;  and  ten  tons  is,  I  believe, 
about  the  capacity  of  a  frigate's  largest  boat,  such  as  we  often 
see  moving  about  the  harbor,  rowed  by  ten  or  twelve  men. 
Frobisher's  ten-ton  pinnace  was  only  decked  in  the  forward 
part.  She  was,  in  fact,  a  great  lubberly  sail-boat,  and  nothing 
more. 

In  the  month  of  June,  1576,  the  little  fleet  dropped  down  the 
Thames,  past  the  royal  palace  of  Greenwich.  Queen  Elizabeth 
waved  her  hand  to  them  as  they  glided  by,  and  sent  a  message 
of  good  chter  to  the  commander.  They  cleared  the  channel  in 
safety,  anil  stood  out  on  the  broad  Atlantic. 

June,  as  sailors  well  know,  is  a  treacherous  month.  The 
hardest  blow  I  ever  experienced  on  the  ocean  was  in  the  month 
of  June,  ar,d  it  was  not  far  fi'om  the  very  spot  where,  two  hun- 


308  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

clred  and  eighty-nine  years  ago,  the  courage  of  Captain  Frobisher 
was  put  to  as  severe  a  test  as  any  man's  ever  was.  A  fearful 
storm  arose,  during  which  his  pinnace  of  ten  tons  was  over- 
whelmed by  the  waves,  and  all  on  board  were  lost.  The  crew 
of  the  vessel  next  in  size,  appalled  at  this  disaster,  turned  their 
prow  toward  England,  leaving  Frobisher's  own  ship  alone  in  the 
waste  of  waters.  If  Frobisher  had  faltered  and  turned  back, 
what  mortal  could  have  blamed  him?  Alone,  but  undaunted, 
this  hero  held  on  his  course  until  the  shores  of  Labrador  barred 
his  farther  progress  to  the  north-west.  Skirting  the  coast,  he 
entered,  at  length,  the  strait  that  bears  his  name,  which,  for  a 
time,  he  thought  might  be  the  passage  to  Asia  of  which  he  was 
in  quest.  He  spent  some  weeks  of  the  summer  in  fruitlessly 
exploring  those  waters,  landing  here  and  there,  and  returned 
to  England  in  September,  having  been  absent  less  than  three 
months.  He  took  possession  of  the  country  in  the  name  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  and,  in  token  of  her  sovereignty,  brought 
away  some  stones  and  earth. 

Captain  Frobisher's  career  as  an  American  voyager  would 
have  probably  ended  with  this  expedition  but  for  an  accident. 
Among  the  spoils  brought  from  the  frozen  regions  of  Labrador 
was  a  large,  dark-colored  stone,  which,  falling  into  the  hands 
of  the  London  gold-assay ers,  was  found  to  contain  gold.  A 
furore  arose  among  the  merchants  of  London.  Two  ships  were 
fitted  out  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  to  England  large  quanti- 
ties of  the  precious  ore,  to  which  the  queen  added  a  ship  of  two 
hundred  tons  from  the  royal  navy.  In  May,  1577,  Captaia 
Frobisher  and  his  men,  having  first  gone  in  solemn  procession 
to  church,  and  partaken  of  the  communion,  set  sail,  and  soon 
reached  the  scene  of  their  first  explorations.  Icebergs  cov- 
ered the  sea,  and  continually  threatened  the  vessels  with  de- 
struction, and  they  were  saved  only  by  the  light  of  the  endless 
northern  day.  Inhabitants  were  discovered  on  the  shore.  One 
of  these,  a  "man  of  large  corporature  and  good  proportion," 
they  seized  and  carried  ofi".  Another,  an  ill-favored  old  woman, 
they  took  for  a  devil  or  a  witch,  and  actually  pulled  ofi"  the  skins 
that  covered  her  feet,  to  see  if  they  were  not  cloven.  The  ships 
were  freighted  at  length  with  ore,  the  captain  himself  toiling 


SIR    MARTIN    FROBISIIER.  309 

at  the  work  like  a  g:illcy-slave,  and  away  they  sped  to  Eng- 
land, which  they  reached  late  in  September,  after  four  months' 
absence. 

We  are  informed  by  the  old  chroniclers  that  enough  gold  was 
smelted  out  of  the  mass  of  black  ore  to  pay  the  whole  expense 
of  the  voyage.  This  statement  derives  probaljility  from  Avhat 
followed  ;  for  in  the  spring  of  the  next  year,  Admiral  Frobisher 
again  set  sail,  with  a  fleet  of  fifteen  ships,  a  gi'eat  part  of  tho 
expense  of  which  was  borne  by  the  queen,  who  was  too  fond  of 
money  to  risk  it  except  with  a  good  prospect  of  its  bringing 
back  more.  This  was  a  terrible  and  disastrous  voyage.  Ice- 
bersfs  were  encountered  of  such  enormous  size,  that  torrents  of 
water  ran  down  their  dissolving  sides  in  foaming  and  glistening 
cascades.  One  of  the  ships  was  caught  between  two  of  these 
ice-mountains,  and  crushed  to  pieces,  the  crew  narrowly  escap- 
ing. Having  lost  its  way  in  a  fog,  the  fleet  drifted  into  the 
strait  since  named  Hudson's,  and  Frobisher  again  believed  he 
had  found  the  long-sought  passage  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  But, 
compelled  by  his  orders  to  confine  himself  to  the  main  object  of 
the  expedition,  he  turned  back  and  made  his  way,  with  incon- 
ceivable difficulty,  to  the  islands  containing  the  black,  gold-bear- 
imr  stone.  It  had  been  intended  to  found  a  settlement  there  ; 
but  his  men,  disheartened  by  the  perils  they  had  undergone 
and  the  cheerless  aspect  of  those  ice-bound  shores,  could  not  be 
induced  to  remain.  Hastily  loading  their  ships,  they  sailed  for 
Enjrlaud,  where  the  ore  was  found  to  be  of  little  value.  All 
parties  were  discouraged,  the  illusion  was  dispelled,  and  Fro- 
bisher sailed  no  more  to  the  desolate  regions  of  the  North. 

For  the  next  seven  years  he  disappears  from  history.  In  1585 
we  see  him  accompanying  Sir  Francis  Drake  in  his  famous  expe- 
dition to  the  West  Indies.  Three  years  after,  ever}^  valiant 
sailor  in  England  was  summoned  forth  to  battle  with  the  Span 
ish  Armada.  Martin  Frobisher  commanded  a  ship  on  the  great, 
decisive  day,  and  fought  her  with  such  splendid  courage  and 
skill,  that  the  lord  high  admiral  came  on  board  after  the  action, 
and  conferred  upon  Admiral  Frobisher  the  honor  of  knighthood. 

It  was  his  destiny  to  join  in  one  more  world-renowned  con- 
tost, —  that  which  ended  in  seating  firmly  on  the  throne  of 


310  PEOPLE'S    BOOR    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

France  the  great  Henry  lY.  Queen  Elizabeth  was  an  active 
ally  of  Henrj^  and  sent  him  powerful  succors.  In  an  attack 
upon  a  strong  position  near  Brest,  Sir  Martin  Frobisher,  com- 
manding the  English  fleet,  received  a  mortal  wound.  He  sur- 
vived long  enough  to  conduct  his  fleet  in  safety  to  England, 
and  died,  a  few  days  after,  at  Plymouth,  mourned  by  every  true 
Giailor  and  loyal  heart  in  the  realm. 


ALFONSE    D'ALBUQUEEQUE.  ^H 


ALFONSE   D'ALBUQUEEQUE. 


-♦o«- 


Tiiis  is  a  grand-looking  name  to  put  at  the  head  of  an  article. 
Little  known  as  it  now  is,  the  time  was  when  the  world  re- 
sounded with  it.  Three  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  it  was  as 
familiar  and  fimious  as  the  names  of  Napoleon,  Wellington,  and 
Washington  now  are.  He  was  generally  spoken  of  as  the  great 
Albuquerque;  sometimes  as  the  "Mars  of  Portugal ; "  and  to 
this  dav  the  Portuijuese  res^ard  him  as  the  cjreatest  man  of  their 
greatest  age.  He  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  successful  of 
conquerors,  and  excelled  all  the  commanders  of  his  time,  except 
Pizarro  and  Cortez,  in  battering  down  other  people's  towns,  and 
carrying  off  their  gold,  silver,  and  diamonds.  On  one  occasion, 
we  are  told,  his  booty  amounted  to  a  sum  equal,  in  greenbacks 
of  to-day,  to  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars ;  but  no  historian 
has  taken  the  trouble  to  inform  us  what  offence  the  people  of 
Malacca  had  committed,  that  they  should  be  subjected  to  this 
heavy  fine. 

At  that  day,  all  Christians  appear  to  have  been  fully  con- 
vinced that  the  heathen  had  no  ri^i^hts  which  Christians  were 
bound  to  respect.  Pizarro,  Cortez,  and  Albuquerque  took  this 
for  granted ;  and  all  we  can  say  in  favor  of  the  eminent  robber 
last  named  is,  that  he  was  much  the  most  humane  and  hiah- 
minded  of  that  immortal  trio  of  plunderers.  When  once  he 
had  completely  subjugated  an  Indian  city,  and  shipped  to  Por- 
tus^al  the  cream  of  its  wealth,  he  Cfoverned  it  thenceforth  in  a 
very  exact  and  superior  manner,  and  extorted  from  the  people 
only  a  small  part  of  the  fruits  of  their  industry.  Despite  his 
plundering,  too,  he  personally  despised  wealth,  kept  little  of  it 
for  himself,  and  w^as  animated  by  a  strong  desire  to  extend  the 
empire  of  the   cross.     It  is  difficult  to  decide  which  was  his 


312  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

ruling  motive,  a  desire  to  enhance  the  glory  and  greatness  of 
Portugal,  or  to  bring  the  people  of  India  into  the  pale  of  the 
Catholic  Church. 

Alfonso  d 'Albuquerque,  born  in  1453,  near  Lisbon,  was  of 
the  highest  rank  in  the  nobility  of  his  own  country,  and  was 
connected  by  ties  of  blood  with  the  royal  families  of  three  king- 
doms,—  Portugal,  Spain,  and  France.  He  was  reared  at  the 
court  of  Alfonse  V.,  King  of  Portugal,  —  a  most  able  and 
learned  monarch, — where  he  enjoyed  the  best  advantages  for 
education  then  attainable  in  Europe.  He  spoke  and  wrote 
Latin  with  perfect  fluency  and  considerable  elegance,  and  took 
part  with  the  king  in  those  mathematical  and  nautical  studies 
which  were  then  the  favorite  pursuits  of  Portuguese  men  of 
learnins:.  The  Portuijuese,  in  their  unendins:  contest  with  the 
Moors,  were  accustomed  to  "carry  the  war  into  Africa,"  and 
Albuquerque  learned  the  profession  of  arms  by  serving  in  Mo- 
rocco for  many  years.  He  became  an  accomplished  sailor,  too, 
by  accompanying  several  of  the  expeditions  which  the  King  of 
Portugal  was  accustomed  to  send  out  for  the  purpose  of  explor- 
ins:  the  coast  of  Africa. 

In  these  arduous  services  by  land  and  sea  he  passed  the  prime 
of  his  manhood.  In  1495,  when  he  had  attained  the  age  of 
forty-two  years,  he  saw  a  beloved  brother  mortally  wounded  at 
his  side  in  a  desperate  conflict  with  the  Moors  in  Africa.  De- 
jected at  the  loss  of  his  brother,  he  sought  a  respite  from  the 
toils  of  war,  and  returned  to  Portugal,  where  the  king  appointed 
him  to  a  high  oflice  in  the  royal  household. 

He  remained  eight  years  in  retirement.  The  Portuguese, 
meanwhile,  had  continued  to  voj^age  to  the  East  Indies,  and 
bring  home  its  valuable  products ;  but,  as  yet,  they  had  no 
fortified  port  in  India  upon  Avhich  they  could  implicitly  rely. 
Albuquerque's  first  service  in  that  part  of  the  world  was  to 
conduct  a  fleet  thither,  and  build  a  fort  at  Cochin,  on  the  coast 
of  Malabar.  He  performed  this  duty  well.  The  remains  of  the 
fort  built  by  him  three  hundred  and  sixty  years  ago  are  still 
visible,  and  the  town  of  Cochin,  thus  secured  to  the  Portuguese, 
contains  to  this  day  a  large  number  of  costly  churches  and  con- 
vents, which  attest  the  zeal  of  those  early  navigators  for  the 


ALFONSE    D'ALBUQUEKQUE.  313 

Fprond  of  their  faith.  All)nquoiT|no  saw,  during  this  visit,  tho 
vast  importance  to  Portugal  of  securing  a  firm  footing  in  India, 
and  he  returned  home  to  lire  anew  the  ambition  and  the  zeal  of 
his  kini:^. 

The  king,  entering  warmly  into  his  views,  gave  him  a  secret 
commission  as  Govcrnor-in-Chief  of  the  Indies,  with  powers 
almost  al)solute,  and  with  orders  to  go  out  merely  as  captain  of 
one  of  the  ships  of  a  fleet,  and,  on  reaching  India,  to  produce  his 
commission  and  assume  the  supreme  command.  He  set  sail  in 
150G,  in  the  fifty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  commanding  one  vessel 
of  a  fleet  of  fourteen  sail.  Ilis  commission  expressly  stated 
that  the  king's  first  object  was  the  spread  of  Christianity,  and 
that  to  this  end  all  others  were  to  be  strictly  secondary. 

On  the  long  and  eventful  vo3^age,  the  genius  and  courage  of 
Albuquerque  were  so  signally  displayed  that  he  seemed  much 
more  the  admiral  of  the  fleet  than  its  real  commander.  They 
stopped  on  their  v^^ay  to  build  a  fort  for  the  protection  of  the 
Nestorian  Christians,  and  to  explore  the  great  Island  of  Mada- 
gascar. At  ]\Iadagascar,  taking  under  his  command  six  ships, 
he  left  the  admiral  to  pursue  his  xoyage  to  India  for  cargoes  of 
spice  and  fabrics,  and  proceeded  himself  on  an  expedition  of  a 
very  dificrent  character. 

From  that  moment  his  career  as  a  conqueror  begins. 

Ormuz,  a  barren  rock  in  the  Persian  Gulf,  was,  for  centuries, 
the  seat  of  the  pearl  fishery  of  those  waters,  and  one  of  tho  chief 
commercial  cities  of  Asia.  "The  world  is  a  ring,"  said  the  ori- 
entals of  that  time,  "and  Ormuz  is  its  precious  stone."  Guided 
by  two  skilful  African  pilots,  Albuquerque  anchored  off  that 
populous  and  wealthy  island  in  1507,  and  Avon  over  it  a  com- 
plete, though  bloodless  conquest.  By  skilful  management,  he 
gained  such  an  ascendancy  there  as  to  place  in  power  a  rajah 
entirely  devoted  to  the  Portuguese,  who  permitted  him  to  con- 
struct in  the  very  heart  of  the  city  a  fortress  for  the  protection 
of  Portus^uese  merchants  tradin2:  or  residins:  at  Ormuz.  His 
followers,  however,  still  ignorant  of  his  secret  commission, 
clamored  to  be  led  to  the  rich  coasts  of  Malabar ;  and  two  of  hia 
Bhips  abandoned  him  at  the  moment  of  his  triumph.     He  was 


314      PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGKA-PHY. 

compelled  to  leave  Ormuz  uuguarded ;  bat  uot  the  less  did  ha 
regard  it  as  his  own. 

He  reached  India  at  len2:th,  and  exhibited  to  the  Portiiofuese 
viceroy  the  royal  commission  which  named  him  his  successor. 
The  viceroy  and  all  his  court  laughed  him  to  scorn,  insulted  him 
on  the  highway,  pretended  that  he  was  either  an  impostor  or  a 
madman;  and,  finally,  Albuquerque  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon 
and  loaded  with  chains.  Soon  after,  one  of  his  kinsmen  reached 
India,  in  command  of  a  numerous  fleet,  who  ]3romptly  espoused 
the  cause  of  Albuquerque,  released  him  from  prison,  and  assisted 
him  to  put  in  force  the  king's  commission. 

Wielding  now  the  whole  power  of  the  Portuguese  in  India, 
Albuquerque  entered  forthwith  upon  the  realization  of  those 
schemes  of  conquest  and  spoliation  which  he  had  meditated  for 
so  many  years.  Calicut,  a  city  which  then  held  the  rank  among 
the  cities  of  India  now  enjoyed  by  Calcutta,  he  besieged,  cap- 
tured, sacked,  and  held  subject  and  tributary  to  the  King  of 
Portugal,  to  whom  he  sent  an  ample  share  of  the  booty.  Here, 
for  a  century,  Portuguese  merchants  grew  rich,  and  Portuguese 
priests  labored  to  convert  the  heathen  ;  and  here  the  warehouses 
of  the  former  and  the  churches  of  the  latter  still  exist.  All 
along  that  wealthy  coast  he  continued  his  ravages,  and  made 
the  Avhole  region  tributary  to  the  king  whom  he  served,  reduc- 
ing it  to  a  subjection  almost  as  complete  as  it  is  now  under  to 
the  Queen  of  England. 

The  city  of  Goa,  on  the  coast  of  Malabar,  w^as  his  next  con- 
quest. It  was  a  place  of  vast  population,  immense  commerce, 
and  prodigious  wealth,  and  it  made  a  defence  proportioned  to 
its  power  and  importance.  After  spending  a  year  in  its  siege, 
after  having  once  captured  and  lost  it,  Albuquerque  finally 
remained  master  of  the  city,  and  drew  from  it  the  booty  before 
alluded  to,  equal  to  about  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars  in  our 
present  currency. 

From  Goa  he  sailed,  with  a  fleet  of  nineteen  ships,  to  Ma- 
lacca, the  chief  city  on  the  large  island  of  the  same  name.  This 
city,  which  then  contained  a  population  of  one  hundred  thousand 
inoflfensive  people,  he  attacked  and  carried,  and  held  it  as  a 
possession  of  the  King  of  Portugal,  with  all  the  territory  apper- 


ALFONSE    D'ALBUQUEKQUE.  315 

taining  to  it.  The  historians  of  this  conquest  mention,  as  a  proof 
of  the  magnanimity  and  disinterestedness  of  Albuquerque,  that 
he  only  took  from  Malacca,  for  his  personal  use,  the  iron  lions 
-which  marked  the  tomb  of  the  royal  famil}^ ;  although  he  car- 
ried away  a  large  ship  loaded  deep  with  gold  and  silver,  for  the 
use  of  the  king  and  the  needs  of  the  public  service.  Not  a  man 
in  that  age  of  the  world  appears  to  have  questioned  the  right  of 
a  strong  Christian  to  seize  the  gold  of  a  weak  heathen  ;  nor  did 
any  one  see  anything  wrong  in  the  robbery  of  a  heathen  king's 
family  tomb.  I  am  happy  to  inform  the  reader  that  the  ship 
containing  both  the  treasure  and  the  iron  lions  went  to  the 
bottom  of  the  sea  a  few  days  after  leaving  JNIalacca. 

Having  thus  reduced  the  shores  and  cities  of  two  of  the  great 
peninsulas  of  Southern  Asia,  he  next  undertook  the  conquest  of 
all  the  vast  regions  watered  by  the  Red  Sea  and  the  Persian 
Gulf.  He  bombarded  the  cities  commanding  those  w^aters,  with 
varying  success.  Meditating  the  conquest  of  Egypt,  he  con- 
ceived a  scheme  for  diverting  the  river  Nile  from  its  course, 
60  as  to  leave  Egypt  a  desert,  and  destroy  its  whole  population. 
He  designed  to  extend  the  power  of  Portugal  even  to  Constan- 
tinople, and,  in  short,  to  reduce  under  the  power  of  his  king  all 
of  Asia  and  Africa  which  were  accessible  and  w^orth  havinsr. 
Such  were  the  genius,  the  energy,  and  the  administrative  talent 
of  this  man,  that  if  he  had  lived  ten  years  longer  he  might  have 
executed  this  scheme. 

But  death  arrested  him  in  the  full  tide  of  his  career.  The 
climate  and  the  toils  of  war  had  undermined  his  constitution, 
and  some  ill-wishers  at  homo  had  misrepresented  him  to  the 
king,  who  sent  out  to  circumscribe  his  power.  This  proved  to 
be  a  mortal  stroke  to  Albuquerque. 

He  died  in  the  odor  of  sanctity,  committing  his  soul  to  God 
and  his  son  to  the  king.  The  last  days  of  his  life  were  spent  in 
hearing  read  his  favorite  passages  of  the  New  Testament,  during 
which  he  held  in  his  hands  and  clasped  to  his  heart  a  small 
crucifix.  His  last  words  showed,  not  merely  that  his  conscience 
acquitted  him  for  what  he  had  done  against  the  people  of  India, 
but  that  he  regarded  himself  as  an  eminent  soldier  of  the  Cross, 
as  well  as  a  faithful  servant  of  his  king.     Nay,  more  ;  his  con- 


316  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY. 

duct  toward  tho  Indians  had  never  occurred  to  him  as  a  case  of 
conscience  at  all ;  so  completely  was  it  taken  for  granted  that 
no  people  except  Christians  had  any  rights.  The  earth  was  the 
Lord's,  and  the  fulness  thereof;  and  did  it  not  therefore  belonsr 
to  the  Pope,  and  to  Christian  kings,  who  Avere  the  Lord's  vicar 
and  vicegerents?  It  is  impossible  to  make  a  modern  reader 
realize  how  entirely  the  people  of  that  age  believed  this.  It 
was  not  because  the  Africans  were  black,  that  Queen  Elizabeth 
encouraged  Sir  John  Hawkins  to  carry  them  away  into  slavery, 
but  because  they  were  idolaters. 

Albuquerque  died  at  Goa,  in  1515,  aged  sixty-two  years. 
The  family  of  Albuquerque  is,  to  this  day,  one  of  the  most 
respectable  in  the  Spanish  peninsula.  Members  of  it  figured  in 
public  life  as  late  as  Napoleon's  day. 


HBENANDO     CORTEZ.  31^ 


HERNANDO    CORTEZ. 


In  the  year  1502,  at  the  small  country  town  of  Meclcllin,  iii 
Spain,  there  lived  an  idle,  dissolute  youth  of  seventeen,  who 
was  the  torment  of  his  parents,  and  the  leader  of  all  the  mis- 
chief going  in  that  neighborhood.  His  parents  were  of  the 
highest  respectability,  though  reduced  in  circumstances,  and 
they  had  given  their  son  the  best  education  within  their  means. 
During  his  infancy  and  childhood  he  had  been  so  sickly  that 
no  one  expected  he  would  live  to  mature  age  ;  but  as  he  grew 
older  he  grew  stronger,  and  at  seventeen  he  was  a  man  in  stature, 
and  sufficiently  robust.  He  was  then  at  home,  having  left  the 
college  of  Salamanca  without  permission,  and  was  passing  his 
time  in  love  intrigues  and  dissipation,  regardless  of  the  remon- 
strances of  his  father  and  the  entreaties  of  his  mother.  "When, 
therefore,  he  declared  his  intention  of  joining  an  expedition 
about  to  sail  for  America,  the  good  people  of  Medellin,  espec- 
ially those  who  had  daughters,  were  not  sorry  to  hear  it.  Plis 
father  had  intended  him  for  the  legal  profession,  which  the 
youth  disdained.  No  career  attracted  him,  except  one  of  ad- 
venture in  the  New  World,  which  had  been  discovered  ten  years 
before. 

A  few  days  before  the  time  appointed  for  the  sailing  of  the 
fleet,  the  young  man  had  a  love  affair  in  the  true  Spanish  style. 
In  those  days,  Spanish  girls  were  kept  almost  as  secluded,  and 
guarded  almost  as  carefully,  as  the  ladies  in  the  harem  of  a  Turk. 
Therefore,  when  a  young  man  fell  in  love,  instead  of  ringing 
the  door-bell  and  sending  in  his  card,  he  often  made  a  rope 
ladder,  and  surveyed  the  residence  of  the  young  lady,  with  a  view 
to  ascertain  the  best  mode  of  getting  upon  her  balcony  or  into 
her  window.     Our   adventurer  proceeded  in  this  manner.     lu 


818  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

scaling  the  wall  of  the  garden  which  enclosed  the  house  wherein 
lived  the  object  of  his  passion,  he  fell  to  the  ground,  and  injured 
himself  so  seriously  that  he  could  not  sail  with  the  expedition. 
It  was  long  before  he  recovered  his  health,  and  still  longer 
before  another  good  opportunity  occurred  of  going  to  America. 

This  is  the  first  recorded  adventure  of  Hernando  Cortez,  the 
renowned  conqueror  of  Mexico.  History  introduces  him  to  us 
falling  from  a  wall,  in  the  dim  light  of  a  Spanish  evening. 

Two  years  after,  being  then  nineteen,  he  took  passage  in  a 
merchant  vessel,  and,  after  a  most  tempestuous  passage,  reached 
the  island  of  Hispaniola,  then  the  seat  of  Spanish  power  in 
America.  He  was  at  that  time  a  very  handsome  3'oung  man, 
graceful,  self-confident,  a  superior  swordsman  and  horseman, 
and  highly  accomplished  in  all  warlike  exercises.  On  leaving 
the  ship,  he  went  at  once  to  the  house  of  the  governor,  a  friend 
of  his  family.  The  governor  being  absent  upon  an  expedition, 
his  secretary  received  Cortez  with  politeness,  and,  b}^  way  of 
encouraging  a  new  comer,  assured  him  that  the  governor,  upon 
his  return,  would  doubtless  allot  to  him  a  liberal  tract  of  land. 

"Land  !  "  said  Cortez.  "I  come  to  find  gold,  not  to  plough 
the  ground  like  a  peasant." 

Nevertheless,  when  the  governor  ofiered  him  a  portion  of 
land  and  a  number  of  Indians  as  slaves,  there  being  nothing 
better  to  take  at  the  time,  Cortez  accepted  them,  and  became  a 
planter.  The  governor  also  named  him  notary  of  the  town,  —  an 
office  of  some  little  emolument.  Without  entirely  neglecting  his 
business  he  now  resumed  his  dissolute  habits,  and  spent  most 
of  his  time^  in  love  intrigues,  which  involved  him  in  several 
duels.  After  seven  3^ears  of  a  life  like  this,  he  joined  the  forces 
destined  for  the  conquest  of  Cuba  under  Velasquez,  and  dis- 
played, in  that  afiair,  so  much  dash,  activity,  courage,  and 
gayety,  that  he  became  a  favorite  of  Velasquez,  who  named  him 
his  secretary. 

This  friendship  was  soon  changed  into  fierce  hostilit3^  Cor- 
tez, in  the  course  of  his  amorous  adventures,  had  given  a 
promise  of  marriage  to  a  young  lady,  which  he  was  not  inclined 
to  keep.  Governor  Velasquez  insisted  on  his  fulfilling  the 
promise.     Cortes,  angry  at  this  interference  with  his  pleasures, 


nERNANDO     CORTEZ.  319 


joined  himself  to  the  enemies  of  Valasqnez,  and  prepared  to  go 
to  Spain  to  intrigue  for  his  recall.  The  governor,  discovering 
the  plot,  arrested  Cortez,  and  would  have  hanged  him,  it  is  said, 
but  for  the  intercession  of  friends.  He  threw  him  into  prison, 
and  caused  him  to  be  chained.  Twice  Cortez  escaped,  and  was 
twice  re-captured,  and  at  length  was  glad  enough  to  accept  his 
liberty  on  condition  of  marrying  the  girl  he  had  betrayed.  The 
governor  endowed  the  young  couple  with  an  extensive  tract  of 
land  in  Cuba,  and  a  large  number  of  Indians.  Being  now  a 
married  man,  he  carried  on  his  plantation  with  great  vigor,  im- 
l)orted  cattle  from  Spain,  and  raised  better  crops  than  his  neigh^ 
bors.  Gold  having  been  discovered  upon  his  land,  he  kept  many 
of  his  Indians  at  work  in  mining  it,  and  so  gradually  became  a 
man  of  considerable  wealth.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a  hard  task- 
master. "God  alone  knows,"  writes  a  Spanish  historian,  "how 
many  Indian  lives  his  gold  cost  him,  and  God  will  hold  him  to 
an  account  for  them."  In  such  labors  his  life  passed,  until  he 
was  thirty-three  years  of  age,  and  there  was  no  prospect,  at 
that  time,  of  his  ever  emerging  from  obscurity.  So  far  as  wc 
know,  he  expected  to  live  and  die  a  planter  and  miner. 

But  in  1518  there  returned  to  Santiairo,  after  an  absence  of 
seven  weeks,  a  small  fleet  which  Velasquez  had  sent  out  to  ex- 
plore the  coasts  of  the  adjacent  continent.  This  fleet  brought 
wonderful  and  most  thrilling  intelligence.  Mexico  had  been 
discovered  !  —  a  land  inhabited,  not  by  poor  and  ignorant  savages, 
but  by  a  people  considerably  civilized,  who  possessed  spacious 
and  costly  edifices,  temples,  rich  garments,  ornaments  of  gold; 
a  people,  too,  who  were  ruled  by  a  powerful  monarch,  with  a 
disciplined  arm}^  and  yet  were  so  debased  by  superstition  as 
to  appease  the  imaginary  wrath  of  their  idols  by  sacrifices  of 
human  beings.  How  all  this  appealed  at  once  to  the  cupidity 
and  religious  zeal  of  the  Spaniards  can  be  imagined  by  those 
who  know  anything  of  the  character  of  the  Spaniards  of  that 
day.  Governor  Velasquez  proceeded  immediately  to  organize 
an  expedition  for  the  settlement  and  conversion  of  Mexico. 
There  were  two  things  wanting,  —  money,  and  a  man  fit  to  com- 
mand such  an  enterprise.  On  looking  around,  the  governor 
thought  he  saw,  in  Hernando  Cortez,  a  man  rich  enough  to  do- 


320  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

fray,  iu  great  part,  the  expense  of  the  expedition,  and  endowed 
with  the  requisite  energy  and  talents  to  conduct  it. 

He  sent  for  Cortez,  revealed  the  project  to  him,  and  offered 
him  the  command.  Cortez  accepted  it,  and  agreed  to  embark 
his  fortune  in  the  enterprise.  Six  large  vessels  were  speedily 
equipped,  and  three  hundred  men  eagerly  volunteered  to  follow 
a  leader  already  known  for  his  courage  and  skill.  The  orders 
given  by  Velasquez  to  the  commander  of  the  expedition,  en- 
joined it  upon  him  to  deal  gently  and  liberally  with  the  Mex- 
icans, since  the  grand  objects  in  view  were,  first,  and  above  all, 
to  convert  them  to  Christianity ;  secondly,  to  open  with  them  a 
peaceful,  honest  commerce ;  and,  lastly,  to  get  such  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  country  and  its  waters  as  would  be  of  use  to  future 
navigators.  He  was  directed,  however,  to  impress  upon  the 
Mexicans  a  lofty  idea  of  the  goodness  and  greatness  of  the  King 
of  Spain,  to  invite  them  to  conciliate  that  monarch  by  presents 
of  gold  and  pearls,  and  acknowledge  him  as  their  sovereign 
lord. 

When  the  fleet  was  ready  to  sail,  Velasquez  awoke  to  the 
danger  of  trusting  with  an  important,  independent  command  a 
man  so  ambitious  and  resolute  as  Cortes,  and  he  determined  to 
remove  him.  Cortez,  notified  in  time,  hurried  on  board,  raised 
his  anchors,  and  put  to  sea ;  so  that  when  Velasquez  ran  down 
to  the.  beach  at  the  dawn  of  day,  November  18,  1518,  to  ex- 
ecute his  intention,  he  saw  the  fleet  standing  out  to  sea,  beyond 
the  reach  of  his  orders. 

Touching  at  several  places  on  his  way  for  recruits,  Cortez 
found  himself,  five  months  after,  near  the  port  now  named  Vera 
Cruz,  Avith  one  hundred  and  ten  sailors,  five  hundred  and  fifty- 
three  soldiers,  and  two  hundred  Indians,  fourteen  pieces  of 
artillery,  and  sixteen  horses.  Disembarking,  he  established 
himself  in  an  entrenched  camp,  and  opened  relations  with  the 
cacique  of  the  district,  who  treated  the  strangers  with  the  utmost 
hospitality.  Their  first  interview  began  Avith  the  celebration  of 
the  Mass,  after  which  Cortez  invited  the  cacique  and  his  attend- 
ants to  a  collation,  which  being  ended,  conversation  began. 
Having  learned  from  the  cacique  that  Montezuma,  the  king  of 
the  country,  resided  at  a  great  city  two  hundred  miles  distant, 


HERNANDO    COIiTEZ.  321 

Cortez  asked  permission  to  visit  him ;  to  which  the  cacique 
replied  that  he  would  send  his  request  to  the  king.  A  week 
after  the  messengers  returned,  bearing  to  the  Spaniards  mag- 
nificent presents,  and  a  message  from  Montezuma,  declining  the 
proffered  visit.  A  second  request  elicited  other  costly  gifs,  and 
a  positive  order  from  the  king  for  the  strangers  not  to  approach 
the  capital. 

Cortez  hesitated  not  a  moment.  Feigning  submission,  he 
prepared  at  once  to  march  to  Mexico.  Some  of  his  followers, 
however,  not  as  bold  as  himself,  murnun-cd,  and  plotted  against 
him.  Then  it  was,  that  besides  repressing  the  mutiny  with 
the  strong  hand,  he  resolved  to  make  all  turning  back  impossi- 
ble. He  caused  all  his  vessels,  except  the  smallest,  to  be  scut- 
tled and  sunk.  From  that  hour  there  was  no  safety  except  in 
the  total  conquest  of  the  country.  Leaving  at  Vera  Cruz  a 
sufficient  garrison,  he  began  his  immortal  march,  August  16, 
1519,  with  the  following  forces:  four  hundred  foot  soldiers, 
fifteen  horsemen,  thirteen  hundred  Indian  warriors,  one  thou- 
sand Indians  to  draw  the  cannons  and  carry  the  baggage,  and 
seven  pieces  of  artillery. 

To  relate  the  conquest  of  Mexico  requires  volumes.  That 
great  empire  fell,  like  Peru,  because  it  was  divided  against 
itself.  At  what  an  enormous  sacrifice  of  life  the  conquest  was 
made,  what  perils  Cortes  escaped,  what  an  amazing  energy  and 
genius  he  displayed,  how  much  wisdom  and  humanity  were 
united  in  him  with  bigotry  and  cruelty,  — to  know  these  things, 
the  reader  must  repair  to  one  of  the  many  works  which  relate 
to  the  conquest  of  Mexico. 

For  twenty-one  years,  if  we  deduct  one  short,  triumphal  visit 
to  Spain,  Cortez  lived  in  Mexico,  and  for  Mexico;  fighting, 
organizing,  governing,  exploring,  evangelizing.  He  explored 
the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  and  discovered  California.  lie  acquired 
incalculable  wealth,  and  expended  the  greater  part  of  it  in  ex- 
plorations and  establishments,  from  which  he  neither  received 
nor  expected  any  return.  Falling  into  disfavor  with  the  king, 
he  returned  to  Spain,  and,  after  living  in  obscurity  for  seven 
years,  died  in  1547,  aged  sixty-two  years.  He  left  large  sums 
for  the  establishment  in  Mexico  of  three  irrcat  institutions,  a 

21 


322  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

hospital,  a  college  for  the  education  of  missionaries,  and  a  con- 
vent. His  will  contained  one  passage  so  curious,  that  I  will 
conclude  by  copying  it.  After  recommending  his  heirs  to  treat 
the  Indians  with  humanity,  he  proceeds  thus  :  — 

"It  has  been  long  a  question  whether  we  can,  in  good  con- 
science, hold  the  Indians  in  slavery.  This  question  not  having 
yet  been  decided,  I  order  my  son,  Martin,  and  his  heirs,  to 
spare  no  pains  to  arrive  at  a  knowledge  of  the  truth  on  this 
point,  for  it  is  a  matter  which  interests  deeply  their  conscience 
and  mine." 

Who  would  have  thought  to  find  such  a  passage  in  the  will  of 
a  Cortez?  Nothing  is  more  certain  than  this,  that  Cortez,  in  all 
that  he  did  in  Mexico,  fully  believed  that  he  was  an  instrument 
in  the  hand  of  a  benevolent  God ;  for  he  found  Mexico  pagan, 
and  left  it  Catholic.  Massacre,  rapine,  devastation,  the  betrayal 
and  murder  of  a  king,  the  fall  of  an  empire,  — these  were  as 
nothing  in  view  of  a  result  like  this !  So  thought  all  good 
Spaniards  of  that  age. 


FBANCI8C0    PIZARRO.  323 


FRANCISCO    PIZARRO. 


In  former  times  the  farmers  of  Spain  let  their  pigs  roam  in 
large  droves  in  the  forests,  attended  by  a  boy,  who  kept  them 
from  wandering  too  far,  and  drove  them  at  night  to  an  enclosure 
near  home.  Pizarro,  the  conqueror  of  Peru,  was  one  of  these 
pig-tenders  when  Cohimbus  discovered  America  in  1492.  He 
was  then  seventeen  years  of  age,  —  a  rude,  tough,  wnlful  lad,  ig- 
norant of  everything  except  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
animals  he  drove.  To  his  dying  day  he  could  not  write  his 
name,  nor  read  a  sentence. 

His  father,  who  was  a  captain  in  the  Spanish  army, — a  married 
man  with  children,  —  had  formed  a  connection  with  a  peasant  girl, 
who  bore  him  three  sons,  of  whom  Francisco  Pizarro  was  one. 
It  appears  that  he  brought  up  his  illegitimate  offspring  in  his 
own  house, —  keeping  them,  however,  in  ignorance,  and  employ- 
ing them  in  the  most  menial  and  disagreeable  labors.  Thus  it 
was  that  Francisco  Pizarro,  the  son  of  a  man  of  noble  rank, 
passed  the  days  of  his  youth  as  a  keeper  of  pigs.  Here  was  a 
strance  piece  of  timber  to  make  a  conqueror  of,  — a  swineherd, 
an  illegitimate  son,  ignorant,  living  in  a  secluded  rural  region, 
and  regarded  b}^  his  owni  fother  as  the  meanest  of  his  servants  ! 

One  day  a  pig  strayed  from  the  herd  and  could  not  be  found. 
Pizarro,  dreading  his  father's  anger,  dared  not  go  home.  He 
made  his  way  to  a  recruiting  station,  enlisted  in  the  Spanish 
army  as  a  private  soldier,  and  served  for  a  Avhile  in  Italy.  At- 
tracted by  the  marvels  related  of  the  New  World,  and  being 
naturally  fond  of  adventure,  he,  too,  joined  at  length  an  expe- 
dition to  America,  and,  arriving  at  Hispaniola,  served  under 
Columbus,  and  soon  won  distinction.  He  had  ever}'  quality 
that  fits  a  man  for  a  life  of  daring  adventure.     His  frame  was 


324  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

capable  of  enduring  anything  that  can  be  borne  by  man,  and  in 
point  of  resolution,  fortitude,  and  courage,  he  has  never  been 
surpassed  since  the  world  began. 

From  his  landing  in  America,  to  the  time  of  his  setting  out 
for  Peru,  fourteen  years  elapsed  ;  during  which  he  was  emplo^^ed 
wherever  there  w^as  most  of  difficulty  or  peril.  Having  done 
good  service  under  Columbus  in  Hispaniola,  he  took  part  in  the 
conquest  and  exploration  of  Cuba.  Under  Balboa  he  climbed 
the  mountains  of  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  and  was  with  him 
when  first  he  beheld  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  ran  down  into  its 
waters  exulting,  taking  possession  of  it  in  the  name  of  the  King 
of  Spain.  He  assisted  in  the  conquest  of  the  Isthmus,  and  in 
the  founding  of  the  city  of  Panama. 

In  1524,  Pizarro  was  residing  at  Panama,  a  bronzed  and  bat- 
tered veteran,  fifty  years  of  age,  retired  from  the  service,  cul- 
tivating, with  the  aid  of  a  few  slaves,  a  small  plantation.  After 
so  many  years  of  hard  service,  he  was  still  far  from  rich.  There 
was  also  living  at  Panama  another  soldier  of  fortune  (a  found- 
ling, too) ,  Diego  Almagro,  a  little  older  and  not  much  richer 
than  Pizarro ;  likewise,  Fernando  de  Luques,  an  aged  priest 
and  school-master,  who  was  a  man  of  considerable  wealth. 
These  three  men,  the  youngest  of  whom  was  fifty,  conceived  the 
project  of  conquering  the  powerful  and  wealthy  tribes  that  were 
supposed  to  inhabit  the  western  coasts  of  South  America.  They 
were  to  do  this  by  their  own  resources,  asking  nothing  from  the 
Governor  of  Panama  except  his  sanction  of  the  enterprise.  It 
was  as  though  three  men  in  New  York  should  now  undertake 
the  conquest  of  the  Japanese  empire.  Pizarro  was  to  command 
the  first  body  of  adventures ;  Almagro  was  to  raise,  as  soon  as 
he  could,  a  second  companj',  and  join  Pizarro  on  the  coast ;  the 
priest  was  to  remain  at  Panama  to  watch  over  the  interests  of 
the  partnership. 

The  confederates  having  bought  a  ship,  and  enrolled  a  hun- 
dred and  fourteen  men,  Pizarro  set  sail,  and  ran  down  the  coast 
for  some  hundreds  of  miles ;  landed,  now  and  then ;  ascended 
some  rivers  ;  had  a  fierce  conflict  with  natives,  in  which  he  was 
beaten  and  put  to  flight ;  suflered  extremely  from  hunger,  bad 
food,   ceaseless   rains,  fatigue,  and  wounds ;    and,  after  three 


FRANCISCO  nzARrvO.  325 

months  of  hardship,  and  losing  eleven  men,  sought  refuge  on 
an  island  off  the  coast  of  Ecuador. 

Joined  there  by  Ahnagro  with  sixty-four  men,  he  resumed  his 
attempt  to  get  footing  upon  the  mainland.  Some  slight  success 
cheered  his  men  at  length ;  for,  in  a  viUagc  which  they  sur- 
prised, they  found  a  supply  of  provisions  and  a  large  quantity 
of  gold.  But  this  good  fortune  only  lured  them  on  to  new 
fatigues  and  brought  upon  them  sufferings  beyond  mortal  forti- 
tude to  endure.  When  one  hundred  and  forty-one  men,  out  of 
one  hundred  and  seventy-eight,  had  sank  under  fatigue,  priva- 
tion, and  the  poisoned  arrows  of  the  Indians,  the  rest  demanded 
to  return  to  Panama.  Pizarro  would  not  consent.  He  calmed 
the  discontent  of  his  men,  and  sent  Almagro  back  to  Panama 
for  reinforcements.  The  tale  of  the  sufferings  of  the  adven- 
turers had  such  an  effect  at  Panama  that  Almagro  could  only 
induce  eiahty  recruits  to  follow  him. 

Strengthened  by  this  body,  Pizarro  renewed  his  endeavors, 
and,  at  length,  reached  the  fertile  and  populous  empire  of  Peru. 
Every  inhabitant  Avore  ornaments  of  gold,  and  vessels  of  the 
precious  metals  were  seen  in  every  house.  The  Spaniards,  in- 
flamed at  the  sight  of  these  treasures,  attacked  the  Peruvian 
troops ;  but,  after  several  severe  and  disastrous  encounters, 
Pizarro  perceived  that  a  country,  inhabited  by  millions  of  peo- 
ple and  defended  by  disciplined  armies,  could  not  be  conquered 
by  a  hundred  men.  Again  he  withdrew  to  an  island  on  the 
coast,  and  again  sent  Almagro  to  Panama  for  more  troops. 

But  now  the  Governor  of  Panama  interfered.  The  great 
quantity  of  gold  exhibited  by  Almagro  could  not  shake  his  de- 
termination to  order  Pizarro  home ;  and,  accordingly,  Almagro 
returned  bearing  an  order  for  Pizarro  to  abandon  the  enterprise. 
On  receivinsr  this  order,  Pizarro  refused  to  obey  it.  A  tumult 
arose.  His  followers  ran  down  to  the  ship  and  demanded  to  be 
conveyed  to  Panama.  Pizarro  joined  them,  gathered  them 
around  him,  and,  drawing  a  line  in  the  sand  with  his  sword,  ad- 
dressed them  thus  :  — 

"Comrades,  on  that  side,'*  pointing  to  the  South,  "are  toil, 
hunger,  nakedness,  the  drenching  storm,  battle,  and  death.  On 
this  eide,"  pointing  to  the  North,  "are  ease  and  safety.     But  on 


326  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

that  side  lies  Peru,  with  its  wealth.  On  this  side  is  Panama 
and  its  poverty.  Choose,  each  man,  what  best  becomes  a  brave 
Castilian.     For  my  part,  I  go  to  the  South." 

Having  said  these  words,  he  stepped  to  the  southern  side  of 
the  line,  and  there  stood,  eying  the  homesick  crowd.  Twelve 
soldiers,  one  priest,  and  one  muleteer  joined  him.  The  rest 
went  on  board  the  ship  and  returned  to  Panama. 

With  these  fourteen  companions  he  withdrew  to  a  rocky 
Island,  and  there  remained  five  months  waitino:  for  Almas^ro  to 
join  him  with  reinforcements.  Their  provisions  being  con- 
sumed, they  lived  upon  shell-fish,  sea-weed,  reptiles,  and  fish, 
and  drank  brackish  water  from  the  hollows  of  the  rocks.  At 
length,  to  their  inexpressible  joy,  a  sail  hove  in  sight.  It  was 
a  ship  sent  by  Almagro,  not  to  reinforce  his  confederate,  but  to 
bring  him  back  to  Panama.  The  indomitable  Pizarro,  however, 
so  wrought  upon  the  cupidity  of  the  captain  of  this  vessel,  that 
he  induced  him  to  join  him  in  continuing  his  explorations.  Once 
more  their  eyes  were  dazzled  and  their  passions  kindled  by  the 
evidences  of  the  boundless  wealth  of  Peru ;  but  they  saw,  too, 
such  indications  of  strength  and  discipline,  that  Pizarro  himself 
perceived  that  for  the  conquest  of  such  a  country  a  score  of  ex- 
hausted men  would  not  sufiice.  He  now  returned  to  Panama  to 
organize  the  enterprise  anew.  He  reached  that  capital,  after  an 
absence  of  three  years. 

He  was  now  without  resources  —  a  ruined  man  —  and  the 
governor  placed  an  absolute  veto  upon  any  farther  attempt  to 
conquer  Peru.  Pizarro,  still  undaunted,  borrowed  a  small  sum, 
took  passage  to  Spain,  made  his  way  to  the  court  of  Charles  V., 
told  that  able  monarch  what  he  had  done  and  seen,  and  asked 
his  aid  and  authorization  to  resume  his  attempts.  The  emperor 
gave  him  the  fullest  authority,  raised  him  to  the  rank  of  noble, 
and  supplied  him  with  a  part  of  the  money  required. 

In  January,  1531,  the  fifty-seventh  year  of  his  age,  with 
three  ships,  one  hundred  and  thirty-four  foot  soldiers  and  thirty- 
six  cavalry,  he  sailed  from  Panama.  Joined  on  the  coast  of 
Peru  by  seventy-two  more  horsemen  and  twelve  infantry,  he 
hesitated  not  to  march  into  the  interior  and  confront  a  large 
army  of  Peruvians.     Before  attacking  this  army,  Pizarro  sent  a 


FRANCISCO    riZARRO.  327 

priest  to  explain  to  the  Peruvian  monarch  the  Cliristian  reli<aon ; 
to  demand  his  immediate  acceptance  of  the  same,  and  his  sub- 
mission to  the  King  of  Spain. 

The  priest,  crucifix  in  hand,  approached  the  inca,  and,  by  the 
aid  of  an  interpreter,  delivered  a  wonderfully  extravagant  ha- 
rangue. He  began  by  relating  the  creation  of  the  universe,  the 
fall  of  man,  the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ,  his  death,  resurrection, 
and  ascension,  the  selection  of  St.  Peter  as  his  vicar  on  earth, 
the  succession  of  the  popes,  and  their  universal  power.  He  then 
stated  that  one  of  these  successors  of  St.  Peter,  namely,  Pope 
Alexander  VI.,  had  conferred  upon  the  King  of  Spain  the  sov- 
ereignty of  all  the  countries  in  the  New  World.  Finally,  he 
called  upon  the  inca  to  recognize  the  sovereignty  of  the  king, 
submit  to  the  pope,  lay  down  his  arms,  and  pay  tri])ute. 

"What  tribute,"  asked  the  inca,  with  a  sneer,  "am  I  to  pay 
to  this  Charles,  who,  you  say,  is  himself  inferior  to  God  the 
Father,  God  the  Son,  God  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  even  to  the 
pope  ?  I  desire  to  be  a  vassal  of  the  gods  alone.  I  know  noth- 
ing about  the  pope,  nor  his  pretended  right  to  dispose  of  my 
kingdom  ;  and  as  to  renouncing  the  religion  of  my  ancestors,  it 
will  be  time  to  do  that  ^vhen  you  have  proved  to  me  the  truth 
of  yours." 

As  soon  as  the  priest  returned  with  this  reply,  Pizarro  ordered 
his  artillery  to  open.  A  short,  but  desperate  and  bloody  battle 
ensued.  Rushing,  himself,  upon  the  litter  of  the  inca,  Pizarro 
overturned  it  and  took  the  monarch  prisoner.  Then  the  Peru- 
vians fled,  leaving  behind  them  their  king,  two  thousand  killed, 
three  thousand  prisoners,  and  an  immense  booty.  Pizarro  was 
wounded  in  the  hand,  but  he  lost  not  a  man  of  his  little  army. 

This  sinirlG  battle  made  Pizarro  master  of  Peru,  which  he 
ruled  for  the  next  eight  years  with  sovereign  sway.  How  he 
ruled  it  every  school-boy  knows.  He  betrayed  and  murdered 
the  captive  inca.  He  quarrelled  with  Almagro  over  the  division 
of  the  spoils,  and  finished  b}^  putting  him  to  death.  He  accu- 
mulated a  greater  amount  of  treasure  than  was  ever  possessed, 
before  or  since,  by  an  individual.  Spoiled  by  prosperity  with- 
out parallel,  he  was  cruel  to  the  Peruvians,  capricious  and 
tyrannical  to  the  Spaniards,  and,  at  length  a  rebel  against  his 


328  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

king.  A  conspirac}^,  headed  by  the  son  of  the  murdered  Alma- 
gro,  was  formed  against  him.  On  a  Sunday  afternoon,  in  1541, 
at  the  hour  when  the  tyrant  was  accustomed  to  sleep,  a  band  of 
the  confederates  burst  into  his  palace,  killed  or  dispersed  his 
servants,  and  attacked  him.  Armed  only  with  a  sword  and 
buckler,  he  defended  himself  with  the  most  desperate  courage. 
Four  of  his  assailants  he  slew ;  five  more  he  wounded ;  and  still 
he  fou2:ht  on.  At  last,  one  of  the  band  ensfaofed  him  and  drew 
his  attention  from  the  rest ;  and,  while  Pizarro  dealt  a  furious 
blow  at  his  chief  assailant,  the  others  succeeded  in  ijivinor  him  a 
mortal  wound.  He  fell  at  the  feet  of  an  image  of  Christ,  which, 
it  is  said,  he  kissed  at  the  moment  of  his  death. 

So  perished,  in  his  sixty-eighth  year,  the  man  who  was,  per- 
haps, the  most  resolute  of  all  the  sons  of  men.  In  mere  strength 
of  purpose,  it  is  questionable  if  his  equal  ever  lived  ;  but,  though 
this  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  of  qualities,  and  accomplishes 
very  great  things,  a  man  must  have  much  more  in  order  to  turn 
to  good  account  the  prizes  won  by  it.  Pizarro  was  little  morfl 
than  a  magnificently  gifted  brute. 


SEBASTIAN    CABOT.  320 


SEBASTIAN   CABOT. 


In  1493,  when  the  news  of  Cohimbns'  great  discovery  was 
making  its  way  over  Europe,  there  was  living  at  Bristol,  in 
England,  an  old  Italian  merchant  named  Giovanni  Cabota, 
which  his  English  neighbors  corrupted  into  John  Cabot.  This 
old  gentleman  had  been  so  much  a  wanderer  that  the  place  of 
his  birth  is  now  unknown.  He  had  lived  fifteen  ^^ars  in 
Venice,  then  the  first  commercial  port  in  Europe  ;  and  from 
Venice  had  removed  to  London,  and  from  London  to  Bristol, 
wdiere  he  was  living,  in  1493,  in  some  opulence,  and  in  high 
repute.  It  is  not  known  whether,  up  to  that  time,  he  had  ever 
been  a  mariner ;  nor,  indeed,  is  it  quite  certain  that  he  ever  in 
bis  life  made  a  voyage  on  the  ocean. 

John  Cabot  had  three  sons,  one  of  whom  was  named  Sebas- 
tian, born  probably  in  Bristol,  where  he  grew  to  man's  estate, 
and  exercised  the  craft  of  map-maker.  All  maps  were  then 
drawn  by  hand,  as  all  books  had  formerly  been  written  with 
the  pen.  Map-making  was  a  considerable  business  in  commer- 
cial ports,  and  one  that  was  held  in  high  esteem.  Columbus 
was  a  map-maker  at  one  period  of  his  life,  and  it  was  while  ply- 
ing this  vocation  that  the  conviction  grew  in  his  mir.d  that 
there  must  be  some  land  in  the  western  hemisphere  to  balanco 
the  great  continent  in  the  eastern.  Sebastian  Cabot,  as  a 
maker  of  maps,  had  a  peculiar  interest  in  the  news  that  camo 
from  Spain  in  the  summer  of  1493.  lie  had  shared  in  the 
general  impression  that  there  was  land  in  the  western  hemi- 
sphere, and  he  was  now  obliged  to  place  the  islands  discovered 
by  Columbus  on  his  maps. 

In  September  of  this  year  Columbus  sailed  again  for  the 
New  World  with  a  fleet  of  seventeen  vessels  and  fifteen  hundred 


330  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGEAPHY. 

men, — all  Europe,  so  to  speak,  looking  on  with  amazement 
and  admiration.  He  returned  in  June,  1496,  with  accounts  of 
discoveries  still  more  extensive  and  alh;ring.  We  can  easily 
imagine  what  were  the  feelings  of  the  avaricious  Henry  YII., 
King  of  England,  when  he  reflected  that  all  this  glory  and 
w^ealth  miirht  have  been  his  but  for  an  accident.  Columbus 
had  sent  his  brother,  Bartholomew,  to  England,  to  solicit  the 
patronage  of  Henry  VII. ;  but  on  the  voyage  Bartholomew  was 
taken  by  pirates  and  carried  away  into  captivity. 

In  these  circumstances,  it  was  not  difficult  to  interest  the 
English  king  in  a  scheme  of  western  discovery.  Sebastian 
Cabot,  young,  and  fired  with  ambition  to  follow  the  career  of 
Columbus,  was  probably  the  prime  mover  of  the  enterprise ; 
but  the  patent  granted  by  the  king  conferred  the  requisite 
authority  upon  "John  Kabotto  "  and  his  sons,  Lewis,  Sebastian, 
and  Sancius.  The  king  took  care  not  to  risk  any  capital  in  the 
proposed  voyage ;  for  the  patent  authorized  the  adventurers 
"to  sail  to  all  parts,  countries  and  seas  of  the  East,  of  the 
West,  and  of  the  North,  under  our  banners  and  ensigns,  with 
^YG  ships,  etc.,  upon  their  own  j^t'oper  costs  and  charges"  The 
wealthy  Bristol  merchant,  in  all  probability,  furnished  the 
capital  of  the  enterprise  which  gave  to  England  all  her  rights 
in  North  America ;  and  that  merchant  was  not  an  Englishman. 

John  Cabot,  unable  or  unwilling  to  fit  out  five  ships,  caused 
one  to  be  made  ready  at  Bristol.  The  name  of  this  vessel  — 
the  first  ever  within  sis^ht  of  the  continent  of  North  America 
— was  the  Matthew;  and  she  sailed  from  Bristol  in  May,  1497. 

The  voyage  made  in  this  ship  is  always  spoken  of  as  the 
voj^age  of  "  John  Cabot  and  his  son  Sebastian ;  "  but  some 
recent  investigators  have  doubted  whether  the  father  really 
sailed  in  the  ship.  Their  reasons  are  not  convincing.  The  old 
man  probably  accompanied  his  son,  leaving  to  the  young  man 
the  toils  and  responsibility  of  command. 

The  Matthew,  leaving  Bristol  in  May,  sailed  westward 
twenty-one  hundred  miles ;  and  on  the  24th  of  June, 
1497,  at  five  in  the  morning,  Sebastian  Cabot  descried  the  lofty 
and  dismal  shores  of  Labrador.  This  was  fourteen  months 
before  Columbus  saw  the  main  land  of  America.     The  Cabots, 


SEBASTIAN     CABOT.  331 

therefore,  were  the  discoverers  of  ^Torth  America;  and  tho 
Britisli  claim  to  the  possession  of  the  thirteen  colonies  rested 
primaril}'  upon  this  fact.  Sebastian  Cabot  was  more  sur[)rised 
than  pleased  with  his  discovery.  Up  to  this  time  Columbus 
and  all  the  world  supposed  that  the  newly- discovered  countries 
were  parts  of  the  eastern  continent,  and  the  prime  motive  of 
the  Cabots  and  Henry  VII.  was  to  discover  a  north-west 
passage  to  India.  Young  Cabot,  therefore,  when  he  saw  those 
cliffs  of  Labrador  blocking  his  way,  was  disappointed  rather 
than  gratitied.  Undaunted,  however,  he  ran  along  the  coast, 
as  if  expecting  to  find  somewhere  an  opening,  and  continued  to 
sail  northward  until  the  sun  was  visible  almost  all  the  twenty- 
four  hours.  He  landed  on  the  rock-bound  coast,  but  found  no 
inhabitant.  Having  taken  formal  possession  of  this  unknown 
country  (which  they  supposed  to  be  an  outlying  portion  of 
Tartary),  the  adventurers  turned  their  prow  toward  England, 
which  they  reached  in  August,  after  an  absence  of  about  three 
months. 

All  England  was  filled  with  the  renown  of  this  marvellous 
adventure ;  and  the  king  rewarded  the  Cabots  with  honors  and 
money.  It  is  rx^lated  in  the  old  chronicles  that  John  Cabot  was 
named  the  great  admiral ;  that  he  dressed  in  sillv ;  and  that 
whenever  he  went  abroad  crowds  of  people  followed  him. 

The  aged  merchant  now  vanishes  from  history.  In  ^lay  of 
the  next  year,  Sebastian  Cabot,  with  two  ships  and  a  largo 
compan}',  sailed  again  from  Bristol  in  quest  of  a  shorter  passage 
to  the  rich  countries  of  the  Eastern  World.  He  was  thea 
little  more  than  twenty-one  3^ears  of  age,  and  his  family 
defrayed  the  greater  part  of  the  expense  of  the  voyage.  Start- 
ing with  the  notion  that  the  pathwaj'  to  the  East  was  to  bo 
found  far  to  the  North,  he  continued  his  northern  course  until 
he  had  gone  far  be^'ond  the  point  reached  on  the  previous 
voyage.  Icebergs  began  to  obstruct  his  passage ;  but  he 
pushed  on,  ever  hoping  to  discover  an  opening  in  the  coast; 
until,  at  length,  the  whole  ocean,  as  far  as  the  e^'e  could 
reach,  was  covered  with  masses  of  floating  ice.  Fortunatelj^ 
there  was  no  niiiht  in  that  res^ion  duriufr  the  month  of  Julv,  and 
he  could  sec  before  him  at  all  times.     Despairing  of  reaching 


332  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

iDclia  by  a  northern  cut,  he  changed  his  course  to  the  south- 
^vard,  an'J  sailed  alons^  the  coast  until  he  reached  a  reofion  in- 
habitable  by  animals  and  men.  He  landed  at  several  points. 
He  found  deer  larger  than  those  he  had  seen  in  English  parks. 
He  discovered  men  clad  in  the  skins  of  beasts,  and  using  imple- 
ments made  of  copper.  Such  dense  shoals  of  codfish  played 
about  the  bows  of  his  vessels  that  he  supposed  they  lessened 
their  speed,  and  he  gave  the  fish  a  name  expressive  of  this 
idea,-  — 5ac«?/aos.  He  saw  bears  spring  into  the  water  and 
catch  codfish  Avith  their  paw^s. 

The  fact  of  his  seeing  the  Indians  using  copper  is  interesting. 
When  I  visited  the  copper  mines  of  Lake  Superior,  a  few  years 
ago,  I  w^as  shoAvn  many  signs  that  those  mines  had  been 
worked  long  ago,  by  some  unknown  race.  Deep  holes  in  the 
earth,  in  w^hich  trees  two  hundred  years  old  are  grow'iug,  may 
still  be  seen ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  such  holes  there  is  always 
plenty  of  copper.  To  this  day  these  cavities  are  the  "  prospect- 
or's" best  guide.  A  large  number  of  round  stone  mallets, 
used  by  the  Indians  in  breaking  ofi"  pieces  of  copper  from  the 
mass,  have  been  found,  and  are  showai  in  the  hotels  alonsr  the 
coast.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  Indians  havinsf  once  used 
copper  should  have  ceased  to  use  it.  No  Indians  within  the 
memory  of  man  have  Avorked  the  mines,  or  possessed  any  of 
the  metal. 

Captain  Cabot,  alw^ays  keeping  in  mind  the  main  object  of 
his  voyage,  skirted  the  coast  as  far  as  Florida,  but,  finding  no 
break  in  the  shore  that  promised  a  passage  to  the  Eastern 
World,  he  turned  his  course  tow^ard  England,  and  entered 
Bristol  harbor  late  in  the  autumn,  after  an  absence  of  six 
months. 

He  considered  his  voyage  a  failure.  England  so  considered 
it.  He  had  added  a  continent  to  the  British  empire,  and  no 
one  valued  the  acquisition.  So  little  did  Cabot  himself  appre- 
ciate the  importance  of  his  discoveries,  that,  though  he  and  his 
two  brothers  possessed  the  exclusive  right  to  trade  W'ith  North 
America,  he  never  attempted  to  avail  himself  of  that  right, 
either  by  himself  or  through  others.  He  was  probably  left  in 
easy  circumstances  by  his  father,  and  the  prospect  of  mere  gain 


SEBASTIAN     CABOT.  333 

was  not  a  sufficient  inducement  for  liim  to  brave  the  perils  of 
the  deep. 

For  the  next  twenty-eight  years  of  his  life  we  catch  hardly  a 
glimpse  of  him.  In  1526,  however,  we  find  him  in  the  service 
of  the  King  of  Spain,  in  command  of  a  powerful  expedition, 
destined  to  attempt  once  more  to  discover  a  bade  ivaj  to  the 
Indies.  This  time  he  kept  to  the  South,  and  explored  the 
shores  of  South  America,  as  far  as  the  Kio  de  la  Plata,  which 
he  discovered,  named,  and  ascended  several  hundred  miles. 
He  spent  five  years  in  this  expedition,  during  which  he  dis- 
played a  valor,  address,  and  humanity  never  surpassed  in  all 
the  history  of  discovery.  There  were  three  Spanish  grandees 
on  board  his  ship,  who  gave  him  infinite  trouble  by  their 
intrigues  and  insubordination.  After  exhausting  every  peaceful 
expedient,  he  ordered  a  boat  to  be  manned,  had  the  trouble- 
some gentlemen  placed  in  it,  and  caused  them  to  be  set  ashore 
on  a  pleasant  spot  on  the  South  American  coast.  From  that 
hour  he  was  obeyed  without  a  murmur  by  every  man  in  the 
fleet.  The  mutineers  found  their  way  to  Spain,  and  filled  the 
court  with  their  complaints  ;  but  the  king  justified  and  rewarded 
Captain  Cabot. 

This  voyage,  also,  Cabot  regarded  as  a  failure.  The  object 
of  his  life  w^as  to  discover  a  western  passage  to  India,  and  he 
continued  to  employ  his  talents  and  his  influence  in  aid  of  simi- 
lar expeditions  as  long  as  he  lived.  Of  all  the  heroic  men  who 
took  part  in  the  discovery  of  the  Western  World,  there  is  not 
one  —  not  Columbus  himself — who  exhibited  nobler  qualities 
of  heart  and  mind  than  Sebastian  Cabot.  He  was  as  gentle 
and  afiectionate  as  a  child ;  but  in  moments  of  difficulty  and 
peril  he  rose  with  the  occasion,  and  displayed  a  talent  for  com- 
mand and  a  lion-like  courage  rarely  equalled.  He  lived  to  a 
great  age ;  but  neither  the  time  nor  the  place  of  his  death  has 
been  discovered.  As  Mr.  Bancroft  has  remarked,  "He  gave 
England  a  continent,  and  uo  one  knows  his  burial-place.'* 


3.14  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT 


PAUL   JONES. 


Paul  Jones  was  the  first  man  that  ever  hoisted  the  stars  and 
stripes  on  a  ship  of  war.  When  the  revolutionary  war  broke 
out  he  was  living  at  Philadelphia,  in  extreme  poverty.  Indeed, 
he  was  almost  penniless,  and  had  scarcely  a  friend  in  the 
colonies.  He  was  born  on  the  southern  coast  of  Scotland, 
where  he  lived  till  he  was  twelve  years  old,  and  then,  having  a 
passion  for  the  sea,  he  served  a  regular  apprenticeship  of  seven 
years  on  board  a  ship  trading  to  America.  He  learned  his 
business  thoroughly,  as  great  men  always  do.  There  never 
lived  a  better  sailor  than  Paul  Jones,  and  he  knew  the  British 
coast  as  familiarly  as  a  newsboy  knows  Nassau  Street.  After 
following  the  sea  till  he  was  twenty-two  years  old,  he  settled  as 
a  merchant  in  the  West  Indies,  .where  he  acquired  a  little 
property,  and  had  good  prospects  of  making  a  fortune.  But  in 
1774,  when  he  Avas  still  but  twenty-four  years  of  age,  he  was 
obliged,  for  some  reason  he  would  never  tell,  to  suddenly  leave 
the  island  of  Tobago,  and  he  sailed  for  Philadelphia  with  just 
fifty  pounds  in  his  pocket ;  and  that  was  all  the  money  he  ever 
received  from  his  property  in  Tobago.  There  is  said  to  be  a 
woman  at  the  bottom  of  every  mischief.  This,  as  our  readers 
well  know,  is  a  slander  upon  the  fair  sex.  But  the  intimate 
friends  of  Paul  Jones  always  supposed  that  it  was  some  affair 
of  love  that  caused  him  to  abandon  his  home  and  property  in 
the  West  Indies.  He  was  always  noted  for  his  chivalric  and 
respectful  devotion  to  ladies. 

In  Philadelphia  he  lived  a  year  and  eight  months  on  his  fifty 
pounds,  since  commerce  was  nearly  suspended  by  the  refusal 
of  the  colonists  to  consume  British  manufactures,  and  he  could 
get  no  berth  on  ship  or  shore.     Just  as  he  was  getting  to  his 


>J 


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y  /^u^A9<h..eyj 


PAUL    JONES.  335 

last  guinea,  living  almost  on  bread  and  water,  Congress 
resolved  to  have  a  navy.  Then  he  came  forward  and  made 
known  his  situation  and  past  history  to  a  member  of  Congress, 
■who  saw  the  stuff  he  was  made  of,  took  up  his  cause  in  earnest, 
and  got  him  a  lieutenant's  commission  in  the  navy  of  the  United 
States.  Let  us  say,  however,  that  Paul  Jones  was  no  mero 
needy  adventurer.  He  was  wholly  devoted  to  the  cause  of  his 
adopted  country.  He  understood  the  quarrel  l)etwecn  the 
colonics  and  the  mother  country,  and  embraced  the  right  side 
of  the  dispute  with  all  his  heart  and  mind. 

His  success  on  the  sea  was  w^onderful.  In  one  short  cruise 
on  the  American  coast  he  took  sixteen  prizes,  of  which  he  burnt 
ei<^ht  that  were  not  worth  saving,  and  sent  in  eight.  He  did 
not  refuse  battle  even  with  the  king's  ships,  one  of  which  he 
captured  that  had  on  board  a  company  of  troops  and  ten 
thousand  suits  of  clothes,  which  were  worth  to  Congress,  just 
then,  their  weight  in  silver.  In  about  eight  months  he  had 
made  a  fortune  in  prize  money,  and  had  absolutely  swept  the 
coast  clear  of  all  British  vessels  sailing  without  a  pow^erful 
convoy. 

Congress  was  prompt  in  rew\arding  him.  July  14th,  1777, 
when  he  was  not  yet  thirty  years  old,  he  was  appointed  to  com- 
mand the  Eanger,  the  best  vessel  of  our  infant  nav}^  ranking  as 
a  sloop  of  war.  It  was  from  the  masthead  of  this  immortal 
ship  that  the  stars  and  stripes  were  first  flung  to  the  breeze ; 
and  it  w^as  on  this  ship  that  the  ensign  of  the  Union  first 
received  a  salute  from  the  guns  of  a  friendly  nation.  This 
occurred  in  the  French  harbor  of  Brest  in  February,  1778,  just 
one  week  after  Dr.  Franklin  had  signed  the  treaty  of  alliance 
with  France. 

A  new  and  brilliant  scene  now  opened  in  the  career  of  this 
heroic  sailor.  Closing  the  ports  of  the  Kanger,  and  removing 
every  other  trace  of  her  warlike  character,  he  sailed  boldly  into 
the  Channel,  and  made  his  way  to  that  part  of  the  coast  upon 
which  he  w^as  born,  and  to  the  tow^n  from  which  he  had  sailed 
ten  years,  every  wharf  and  lane  of  which  he  knew\  It  was 
Whitehaven,  a  place  of  several  thousand  inhabitants,  and  the 
harbor  of  which  contained  three  hundred  vessels,  fastened  closo 


336  PEOPLE'S    BOOK     OF      BIOGRAPHY. 

together.  At  daybreak,  with  two  boats  and  thirty-one  men,  he 
landed  on  a  wharf  of  the  town,  provided  with  a  lantern  and  two 
tar-barrels.  He  went  alone  to  a  fort  defending  the  town,  and, 
finding  it  deserted,  climbed  over  the  wall,  and  spiked  every  gun, 
without  alarming  the  garrison,  who  were  all  asleep  in  the  guard- 
house near  by.  Then  he  surrounded  the  guard-house,  and  took 
every  man  prisoner.  Next,  he  sprang  into  the  only  other  fort 
remaining,  and  spiked  its  guns.  All  this,  which  was  the  work 
of  ten  minutes,  was  accomplished  Avithout  noise  and  without 
resistance.  The  ships  being  then  at  his  mercy,  he  made  a  bon- 
fire in  the  steerage  of  one  of  them,  which  blazed  up  through  the 
hatchway,  while  Jones  and  his  men  stood  by,  pistol  in  hand,  to 
keep  off  the  people,  whom  the  flames  had  alarmed,  and  who  now 
came  running  down  to  the  shore  in  hundreds.  To  the  forts  I 
was  the  cry.  But  the  forts  w^ere  harmless.  When  the  fire  had 
made  such  headway  that  the  destruction  of  the  whole  fleet 
seemed  certain,  Captain  Jones  gave  the  order  to  embark.  He 
was  the  last  to  take  his  place  in  the  boat.  He  moved  off  leisure- 
ly from  the  shore,  and  regained  his  ship  without  the  loss  of  a 
man.  The  people,  however,  succeeded  in  confining  the  fire  to 
two  or  three  ships.  But  the  whole  coast  was  panic-stricken. 
Every  able-bodied  man  joined  the  companies  of  patrolmen. 
It  was  many  a  month  before  the  inhabitants  of  that  shore  went 
to  sleep  at  night  without  a  certain  dread  of  Paul  Jones. 

The  next  day  he  landed  near  the  castle  of  the  Earl  of  Sel- 
kirk, intending  to  take  the  earl  prisoner,  and  keep  him  as  a 
hostage  for  the  better  treatment  of  American  prisoners  in  Eng- 
land, whom  the  king  affected  to  regard  as  felons,  and  who  were 
confined  in  common  jails.  The  earl  was  absent  from  home. 
The  crew  demanded  liberty  to  plunder  the  castle,  in  retaliation 
for  the  ravages  of  British  captains  on  the  coast  of  America. 
Captain  Jones  could  not  deny  the  justice  of  their  demand  ;  yet, 
abhorring  the  principle  of  plundering  private  houses,  and  es- 
pecially one  inhabited  by  a  lady,  he  permitted  the  men  to  take 
the  silver  plate  only,  forbidding  the  slightest  approach  to  vio- 
lence or  disrespect.  That  silver  plate  he  himself  bought  when 
the  plunder  was  sold,  and  sent  it  back  to  the  Countess  of  Sel- 
kirk,  with  a  polite  letter  of  exDlanation  and  apology.      Tho 


PAUL    JONES.  3:57 

Iiunglity  carl  refused  to  receive  it ;  but  Captain  Jones,  after  u 
long  correspondence,  won  his  heart,  and  the  silver  was  replaced 
in  the  plate  closet  of  Selkirk  Castle  eleven  years  after  it  had 
been  taken  from  it.  Such  was  the  persevering  and  chivalric  gen- 
erosity of  Captain  Jones. 

The  day  after  his  visit  to  Lady  Selkirk  was  that  of  his  great 
fight  with  the  British  man-of-war,  the  Drake.  The  Drake,  he 
heard,  was  lying  at  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Carrickfcrgus.  As 
he  was  running  in  with  the  fixed  intention  to  fight  her  there,  ho 
saw  her  standing  out  to  sea  in  quest  of  him.  They  met.  The 
fight  was  short  and  furious.  In  an  hour  and  four  minutes  (about 
the  time  it  took  the  Kearsarge  to  demolish  the  British  ship  Ala- 
bama, Captain  Semmes),  the  Drake  struck,  having  lost  her  cap- 
tain, first  lieutenant,  and  forty  men.  The  Ranger's  loss  was 
nine. 

The  victory  electrified  Europe.  The  audacity,  the  valor,  the 
skill,  and  the  success  of  Paul  Jones  were  the  admiration  of  the 
•world.  Old  Dr.  Franklin,  who  had  planned  the  enterprise,  and 
had  sent  out  to  America  for  a  captain  to  come  and  execute  it, 
was  enchanted.  In  Paul  Jones's  subsequent  troubles,  he  always 
had  a  stanch  friend  and  protector  in  Franklin. 

A  very  successful  man  generally  has  enemies.  Paul  Jones 
experienced  the  truth  of  this  remark.  Nevertheless,  after  much 
delay  and  some  mortifications.  Dr.  Franklin  succeeded  in  get- 
ting him  another  ship,  the  ever  famous  Bon  Homme  Richard, 
thus  named  by  Captain  Jones  in  honor  of  the  venerable  editor 
of  Poor  Richard's  Almanac.  She  was  a  large,  slow,  rotten,  old 
ship,  carrying  forty  guns,  and  manned  by  three  hundred  and 
eighty  sailors  and  landsmen  of  all  nations,  —  French,  Irish, 
Scotch,  Portuguese,  Mala^^s,  Maltese,  and  a  sprinkling  of  Amer- 
icans. It  was  in  this  ship  that  the  indomitable  Jones  fought  the 
Serapis,  a  new  British  ship  of  forty-four  guns,  one  of  the  stout- 
est vessels  in  the  English  navy.  This  was  perhaps  the  most 
desperate  and  bloody  contest  that  ever  took  place  between  single 
ships.  It  was  fought  in  the  evening  of  September  23d,  ]  778, 
60  near  the  Yorkshire  coast  that  the  battle  was  witnessed  by 
hundreds  of  spectators  on  the  shore.     Captain  Jones  perceiving 

the  superior  strength  of  the  enemy,  saw  that  his  onh^  chance 
22 


838  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

was  to  come  to  close  quarters,  and,  early  in  the  fight  got  along- 
side and  lashed  his  ship  to  the  side  of  the'  Serapis.  By  this 
time,  however,  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  had  received  eighteen 
shots  below  the  water  line,  had  four  feet  of  water  in  her  hold, 
had  had  four  guns  burst  and  all  the  rest  disabled  but  three,  had 
lost  a  hundred  men  in  killed  and  wounded,  and  was  on  fire. 
Almost  any  other  man  would  have  given  up,  for  the  Serapis  was 
still  uninjured.  Captain  Jones,  however,  fought  on  with  an 
energy  and  resolution  undiminished.  "With  his  three  guns,  all 
aimed  by  himself,  he  kept  thundering  away  at  the  foe,  while  a 
force  of  sharpshooters  aloft  swept  the  decks  of  the  Serapis  with 
musketry.  Such  w\as  the  vigor  of  this  fire  of  musketry  that  at 
lensfth  no  man  was  seen  on  the  enemy's  deck.  Then  the  men 
of  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  formed  a  line  along  the  main  yard, 
and  passed  hand-grenades  to  the  man  at  the  end,  who  dropped 
them  down  into  the  hold  of  the  Serapis,  doing  tremendous  exe- 
cution. For  three  hours  the  battle  raged.  The  Bon  Homme 
Richard  was  still  leaking  faster  than  the  pumps  could  clear  her. 
The  Serapis  was  on  fire  in  three  places.  The  pump  of  the  Bon 
Homme  Richard  was  shot  awav,  and  then  a  new  danger  threat- 
ened  her.  She  had  gone  into  action  with  nearly  five  hundred 
prisoners  in  her  steerage,  and  when  the  pump  was  shot  away, 
the  officer  in  charge  of  the  prisoners,  supposing  the  ship  sink- 
ing, released  them.  At  the  same  moment  a  boarding  party  from 
the  Serapis  sprang  up  the  sides  of  the  Bon  Homme  Richard. 
This  was  the  crisis  of  the  battle.  Captain  Jones  never  faltered. 
The  boarders  were  gallantly  repulsed  ;  the  prisoners  were  driven 
below,  and  the  fight  was  renewed.  At  half-past  ten  in  the 
evening,  the  British  ship  being  on  fire  in  many  places,  her  cap- 
tain struck  his  colors.  The  Bon  Homme  Richard  was  so  com- 
pletely knocked  to  pieces,  that  she  could  not  be  kept  afloat. 
She  sank  the  next  day,  and  Captain  Jones  went  into  port  in  the 
captured  ship,  with  seven  hundred  prisoners. 

This  great  victory  raised  his  fame  to  the  highest  point.  The 
King  of  France  gave  him  a  magnificent  diamond-hilted  sword, 
and  Congress  voted  him  a  gold  medal.  After  the  war  was  over, 
the  Empress  of  Russia  invited  him  to  join  her  navy  with  the 
rank  of  Rear-Admiral.     He  accepted  the  post,  but  the  jealousies 


PAUL    JONES.  339 

and  intriirncs  of  the  Russian  naval  officers  disi^^iistcd  him  to  such 
a  degree  that  he  resigned  and  returned  to  Paris.  Tlie  last  years 
of  his  life  were  passed  in  o1)Scurity.  He  died  at  Paris  in  1792. 
Paul  Jones  was  a  short,  thick-set,  active  man,  of  great  strength 
and  endurance.  He  had  a  keen,  bright  eye,  with  a  look  of 
wildness  in  it.  His  voice  was  soft  and  gentle.  In  his  dress, 
and  in  the  equipage  of  his  boat  and  ship,  he  was  something  of  a 
dandy.  In  bravery  and  tenacity  of  purpose  he  has  never  been 
surpassed,  but  in  the  intercourse  of  private  life  he  was  one  of 
the  most  amiable  and  polite  of  men. 


340  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 


GUSTAVUS  III. 


In  February,  1771,  two  Swedish  princes,  young,  handsome, 
and  intelligent,  were  at  Paris,  eujojing  the  hospitality  of  the 
French  Court,  and  the  various  pleasures  of  the  gay  metropolis. 
Gustavus,  the  heir  to  the  Swedish  throne,  was  one  of  them, 
and  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Sudermania,  was  the  other. 
They  were  the  more  welcome  in  France,  because  they  shared 
the  skeptical  opinions  that  were  then  so  fashionable  on  the  con- 
tinent. The  French  philosophers,  excluded  from  the  presence 
and  the  favor  of  their  own  king,  gathered  round  these  princes, 
and  celebrated  their  affiibility  and  liberality  in  prose  and  verse. 
Gustavus  and  his  brother  were  preparing  to  visit  Yoltaire,  in 
his  retreat  at  Ferney,  on  the  borders  of  Switzerland,  when  the 
news  of  the  death  of  their  father  called  them  suddenly  home. 
Voltaire,  in  one  of  his  poetical  epistles,  expresses  his  disap- 
pointment at  not  having  received  them  "in  his  desert,  and  in 
his  humble  home,"  as  he  pleased  himself  to  style  his  elegant 
chateau  and  its  magnificent  grounds. 

Gustavus  became  king,  under  the  title  of  Gustavus  III.,  m 
his  twenty-sixth  year.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  was  a  consid- 
erably enlightened  and  well-intentioned  monarch,  who  desired 
to  reform  and  elevate  his  country.  Being  the  nephew  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  of  Prussia,  and  his  character  having  been 
formed  at  the  time  when  Frederick's  renown  was  at  its  zenith, 
when  he  was  styled,  "the  Solomon  and  the  Alexander  of  the 
North,"  it  was  natural  that  Gustavus  should  accept  him  as  his 
model,  both  as  a  king  and  as  a  man,  and  that  he  should  desire 
to  govern  Sweden  as  his  uncle  governed  Prussia.  But  there 
was  an  obstacle  in  his  way.  Sweden  was  a  very  limited  mon- 
archy.    The  real  authority  of  the  State  resided  in  a  legislature, 


GUSTAVUS    III.  311 

composed  of  four  orders  of  the  kingdom,  nobles,  clergy,  burgh- 
ers, and  peasants,  —  a  large  and  somewhat  unmanageal)le  body, 
which  left  to  the  king  little  more  of  ro^'alty  than  the  name  and 
the  external  decorations.  This  legislature,  like  all  representa- 
tive bodies,  in  all  ages,  was  divided  into  parties,  whose  conflict 
sometimes  disturbed  the  country,  and  often  retarded  necessary 
legislation. 

In  such  circumstances,  there  are  two  courses  open  to  a  chief 
macristrate. 

One  is,  to  use  all  his  power,  and  the  great  influence  which  a 
virtuous  head  of  government  can  scarcely  fail  to  possess,  to  im- 
prove or  reform  the  constitution  of  his  country.  This  is  a  slow 
and  difficult  process,  but  it  is  one  which  outlasts  the  lifetime  of 
him  who  worthily  does  it,  and  confers  benefits  that  sometimes 
endure  for  a  thousand  j-ears.  There  are  Koman  laws,  legal 
methods  and  institutions,  which  to-day  are  serving  all  Christen- 
dom. 

The  other  is,  to  destroy  the  constitution  and  found  upon  its 
ruins  a  despotism. 

Gustavus  III.,  young  and  impatient  to  begin  his  kingly  work, 
chose  the  easier,  the  shorter,  the  ignoble  course. 

August  19th,  1772,  the  second  year  of  his  reign,  a  number 
of  military  officers,  and  other  persons  known  to  be  disaffected 
toward  the  senate,  were  summoned  to  attend  the  king  at  his 
palace  in  Stockholm.  While  they  were  assembling,  the  king 
rode  through  the  streets  on  horseback,  bowing  as  he  went,  with 
particular  affability,  to  the  people,  acknowledging  the  salute  of 
the  humblest  person.  He  visited  his  regiment  of  artillery,  to 
whom  he  w^as  all  condescension  and  politeness.  Eeturning  to 
the  palace,  he  invited  the  officers  and  civilians  whom  he  had 
summoned  into  the  guard-room,  where  he  delivered  to  them  a 
long  address,  in  which  he  displayed  talents  for  oratory  that 
would  have  powerfully  aided  him  if  he  had  sought  to  save 
liberty,  instead  of  destroying  it. 

He  began  by  hinting  that,  amid  the  dissensions  of  the  time, 
his  own  life  was  threatened,  and  that  he  was  compelled  to  seek 
safety  in  the  counsels  of  the  faithful  officers  and  friends  then  in 
his  presence.     He  painted  in  exaggerated  colors  the  unhappy 


342  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

condition  of  the  kingdom,  accusing  the  nobles  of  being  bribed 
by  foreign  gold,  of  selling  of&ces  for  money,  of  hindering  all 
needed  reforms  by  factious  disputes  and  mean  contentions  for 
the  supremacy.  He  then  declared  that  it  was  now  his  design 
to  put  an  end  to  the  disorders  of  the  senate,  to  banish  corrup- 
tion from  the  State,  restore  true  liberty  and  the  ancient  lustre 
of  the  Swedish  name.  He  solemnly  disclaimed  forever  abso- 
lute power.  "I  am  obliged,"  said  he,  in  conclusion,  "to  defend 
my  own  liberty,  and  that  of  the  kingdom,  against  the  aristocracy, 
which  reigns.  Will  you  be  faithful  to  me,  as  3'our  forefathers 
were  to  Gustavus  Yasa  and  Gustavus  Adolphus  ?  I  will  then 
risk  my  life  for  your  welfare  and  that  of  my  country." 

As  all  the  assembly  appeared  to  acquiesce  in  the  king's  design, 
which  they  little  understood,  he  instantly  proposed  to  them  an 
oath  of  unqualified  obedience,  which  all  but  three  as  instantly 
took.  One  of  the  three,  Frederic  Cederstrom,  a  young  captain 
of  the  king's  guards,  said  that  he  had  very  recently  taken  an 
oath  of  fidelity  to  the  senate,  and  consequently  could  not  take 
this  new  oath,  which  was  inconsistent  with  it. 

"  Think  of  what  you  are  doing,"  said  the  king,  sternly. 

"I  do,"  replied  the  young  officer;  "and  what  I  think  to-day 
I  shall  think  to-morrow ;  and  were  I  capable  of  breaking  the 
oath  by  which  I  am  already  bound  to  the  senate,  I  should  be 
capable  of  breaking  that  which  your  majesty  now  requires  me 
to  take." 

The  king  demanded  the  sword  of  Captain  Cederstrom,  and 
ordered  him  in  arrest.  Upon  second  thoughts,  the  king  changed 
his  tone,  ofi*ered  to  return  the  sword  and  to  excuse  him  from 
the  oath,  on  condition  of  his  attending  him  during  the  rest  of 
that  day.  The  young  man  remained  true  to  his  principles,  and 
said  that  his  majesty  could  not  confide  in  him,  and  asked  to  be 
excused  from  the  proposed  service.  He  therefore  remained 
under  arrest  with  his  two  companions. 

The  officers  being  gained,  it  was  an  easy  task  to  secure  the 
co-operation  of  the  soldiers  and  the  good  will  of  the  people,  by 
whom  the  young  king  was  enthusiastically  beloved.  A  guard 
of  soldiers  surrounded  the  senate-house,  and  locked  in  the 
members.     The  next  morning  the  king  presented  himself  be- 


GUSIAVUS    III. 

101  c  Uuit  l)ody  and  announced  to  them  tlio  changes  he  designed 
to  mttkc  in  the  government.  He  dechired  that,  in  future,  the 
king  alone  should  have  power  to  convene  and  dissolve  the  legis- 
lature ;  that  the  king  should  have  the  absolute  command  of 
army  atul  navy,  and  the  power  to  appoint  and  remove  all  officers, 
militar}^  naval,  and  civil ;  that,  in  case  of  necessity,  of  Avhich 
the  king  alone  was  to  be  the  judge,  he  should  impose  taxes 
without  consulting  the  senate ;  that  the  senate  should  discuss 
no  subjects  except  those  proposed  by  the  king ;  but  that  no 
ofTensive  war  should  be  undertaken  without  their  consent.  He 
then  declared  the  senate  dissolved,  and  its  members  dismissed 
from  all  their  employments.  He  concluded  by  taking  a  psalm- 
book  from  his  pocket,  and  gave  out  a  thanksgiving  hymn,  which 
the  whole  assembly  rose  and  sang. 

The  king's  triumph  was  complete.  In  two  days,  Sweden, 
from  being  the  most  strictly  limited  monarchy  in  Europe,  be- 
came one  of  the  most  absolute. 

The  despotic  power  thus  gained  by  lying  and  audacity,  was 
employed  by  the  king  both  for  good  and  for  evil.  Many  old 
abuses  were  reformed.  Offices  were  no  longer  sold.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  new  and  dangerous  importance  was  given  to  the 
military  and  naval  forces,  both  being  greatly  increased,  better 
disciplined,  better  paid ;  so  that  the  elite  of  the  nation  sought 
a  career  only  in  arms.  The  strength  of  his  army  and  navy 
tempted  the  king  to  engage  in  foreign  wars,  in  which  he  dis- 
played an  ability  and  courage  which  threw  a  veil  of  "glory" 
over  fields  of  carnage  and  desolated  provinces.  Under  the 
peaceful  sway  of  the  constitution,  Sweden  had  enjoyed  such  a 
long  period  of  repose  that  she  had  recovered  from  the  exhaust- 
ing wars  of  Charles  XII.  Under  the  rule  of  a  despotic  king, 
ambitious  to  make  himself  of  consequence  in  Europe,  she  was 
plunged  again  and  again  into  strife.  When,  in  1792,  the 
eleventh  year  of  his  reign,  the  kings  of  Europe  leagued  them- 
selves against  republican  France,  Gustavus,  too,  remote  as  he 
"was  from  the  scene,  was  true  to  the  instincts  of  despotism,  and 
prepared  to  join  in  that  gigantic  raid  upon  the  rights  of  a  suifer- 
ing,  terrified,  and  distracted  nation. 

The   nobles,  meanwhile,  excluded   from  their  share  in  the 


3M  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

government,  bad  never  ceased  to  plot  against  him.  In  1790, 
twelve  of  the  nobility  bound  themselves  by  an  oath  to  kill  the 
king  and  restore  the  ancient  constitution.  They  cast  lots  to 
determine  which  of  them  should  execute  the  deed,  and  the  lot 
fell  upon  Johann  Jacob  Anckarstroem,  —  a  young  man  who  had 
been  one  of  the  king's  pages,  and  who  had  already  been  once 
tried  for  treason  and  acquitted.  He  was  a  man  of  fiery  and 
determined  spirit.  His  trial  had  been  conducted,  as  he  thought, 
with  unjust  severity,  and  he  burned  with  resentment  against 
the  usurper. 

Two  years  passed,  after  this  compact  had  been  formed,  be- 
fore an  opportunity  occurred  for  its  execution. 

March  16th,  1792,  the  fashionable  world  of  Stockholm  waa 
preparing  for  a  grand  masked  ball,  to  be  given  in  the  evening 
at  the  opera  house,  which  the  king  had  recently  completed. 
The  king,  the  royal  family,  the  court,  the  nobility,  officers,  and 
all  w^ho  could  pretend  to  social  or  official  rank  were  to  be 
present. 

In  the  morning  an  anonymous  note  was  handed  to  the  king, 
warning  him  of  the  plot,  advising  him  to  attend  no  balls  for  a 
year,  and  assuring  him  that  if  he  went  to  the  ball  that  evening 
he  would  be  assassinated.  The  king  read  this  note,  and  tossed 
it  aside  with  an  expression  of  contempt. 

At  a  late  hour  in  the  eveninsf  the  kino^  entered  the  mas^nifi- 

CD  <^  O 

cent  saloon,  and  sat,  for  a  while,  in  a  box,  looking  on.  He 
there  spoke  carelessly  of  the  note,  saying  that  he  was  evidently 
right  in  despising  it,  for  if  there  had  been  any  design  upon  his 
life,  what  better  opportunity  could  there  be  than  at  that  mo- 
ment, when  he  was  sitting  apart  with  only  one  person  near  him? 
He  then  descended  to  the  floor  and  mingled  freely  with  the  gay 
crowd  until  a  late  hour.  As  he  was  preparing  to  leave  the  ball, 
a  number  of  masked  men  gathered  about  him,  one  of  whom 
fired  a  pistol  at  his  back.  The  king  fell,  and  a  scene  of  inde- 
scribable confusion  ensued.  The  doors  were  closed  ;  every  one 
was  unmasked  and  searched ;  but  upon  no  one  was  discov^ered 
anything  indicative  of  guilt,  for  the  assassin  had  dropped  his 
pistols  and  his  dagger  on  the  floor  near  where  the  deed  was 
done. 


GUSTAVUS    III.  315 

The  king  died  on  the  thirteenth  day  after  receiving  his  wound. 
As  he  was  dying,  he  ordered  that  all  the  conspirators  should  bo 
pardoned  except  the  perpetrator.  Ilis  son  being  a  boy  of  four- 
teen, he  had  named  his  brother  regent  of  the  kingdom,  who  at 
once  set  on  foot  the  most  vigorous  measures  for  the  discovery 
of  the  conspirators.  Anckarstroem  confessed  that  he  had  done 
the  deed,  and  declared  that  he  had  done  it  to  deliver  his  country 
from  a  tyrant  and  a  monster.  The  regent,  less  humane  than 
the  revolutionary  rulers  of  France,  was  not  content  merely  to 
deprive  this  misguided  man  of  life,  but  caused  him  to  be  exe- 
cuted w^ith  the  cruelty  characteristic  of  menaced  and  apprehen- 
sive ro3^alty. 

The  death  of  Gustavus  III.  did  not  change  the  policy  of  the 
Swedish  government,  nor  restore  to  Sweden  any  degree  of  free- 
dom. Gustavus  ly.  was  as  absolute  a  king  as  Gustavus  III., 
and  all  the  strength  and  influence  of  Sweden  continued  to  be 
employed  against  France.  Some  years  later,  the  new  king 
showed  symptoms  of  insanity,  and  he  was  deposed.  The  Duke 
of  Sudermania,  brother  of  Gustavus  III.,  succeeded;  and 
under  him  the  senate  was  restored  to  some  of  its  ancient  powers, 
and  there  was  again  in  Sweden  a  semblance  of  constitutional 
government.  But  under  the  next  king,  Bernadotte,  there  were 
real  improvements  in  the  government,  one  of  which  was,  that 
the  nobility,  who  had  been  exempt  from  taxation  and  military 
service,  were  compelled  to  relinquish  both  those  odious  priv- 
ileges. 


346  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 


THOMAS   JEFFERSON. 


-*o*- 


Colonel  Peter  Jeffersox,  father  of  President  Jefferson 
was  a  Virginia  planter  and  surveyor,  of  Welsh  descent,  whc 
hewed  out  a  plantation  for  himself  on  the  outskirts  of  civiliza- 
tion, one  hundred  and  thirty  years  ago.  When  his  son  Thomas 
was  born,  there  were  still  but  three  or  four  white  settlers  with- 
in a  circuit  of  several  miles  of  his  farm ;  the  primeval  woods 
still  flourished  luxuriantly  all  about  him,  and  the  house  was  a 
favorite  stopping-place  for  the  chiefs  of  friendly  tribes  of  Indians 
on  their  way  to  and  from  Richmond.  This  Peter  Jefferson  was 
a  giant  in  stature  and  strength.  It  is  said  of  him,  that  he  could 
lift  from  their  sides  to  an  upright  position  two  hogsheads  of 
tobacco  at  once,  each  of  a  thousand  pounds'  weight.  He  was  a 
man  of  eminent  courage  and  wisdom,  of  singular  firmness,  and 
of  an  honesty  so  established  and  conspicuous,  that  he  was  exe- 
cutor and  trustee  for  half  his  neighbors.  A  few  sterling  books 
were  to  be  found  in  his  house,  —  Addison,  Swift,  Pope,  —  but 
especially,  and  best-beloved,  Shakespeare,  his  well-worn  edi- 
tion of  whose  works  is  still  preserved. 

Thomas  Jefferson,  born  in  1743,  was  the  third  child  and 
eldest  son  of  this  wise  and  stalwart  planter,  and  enjoyed  the 
benefit  of  his  instructions  until  his  fourteenth  year,  when  Colonel 
Jefferson  suddenly  died,  in  the  fiftieth  year  of  his  age.  He 
learned  from  his  father  to  be  a  bold  rider,  and  a  skilful  hunter. 
He  acquired  from  him,  also,  an  elegant  penmanship,  a  taste  for 
reading,  a  knowledge  of  accounts,  habits  of  self-help,  punctuality, 
and  perseverance.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  his  mother 
exerted  the  paramount  influence  over  his  mind.  From  her  ho 
probably  inherited  his  aptitude  for  composition,  his  affectionate 
disposition,  and  his  abhorrence  of  strife.     At  seventeen  he  en 


THOMAS    JEFFEllSON.  347 

terecl  William  and  Mary  College,  where  his  early  education  was 
completed. 

Thomas  Jefferson  became  one  of  the  best  educated  men  who 
ever  lived  in  America.  His  mind  and  his  body  were  equally 
nourished  and  developed.  He  was  one  of  the  best  riders  in  a 
State  where  every  man  was  a  rider  as  a  matter  of  course.  Ho 
was  an  accomplished  performer  on  the  violin.  Having  a  strong 
aptitude  for  mathematics,  he  became  a  proficient  in  that  science, 
both  in  the  theory  and  the  practice.  In  addition  to  the 
knowledge  of  Latin  and  Greek,  which  so  diligent  a  student 
could  not  fail  to  acquire  in  college,  he  afterwards  added  a  famil- 
iar knowledge  of  French,  a  considerable  acquaintance  with 
Italian  and  Spanish,  and  some  knowledge  of  the  Anglo  Saxon. 
I  think  it  is  safe  to  say,  that,  of  all  the  public  men  who  have 
figured  in  the  United  States,  he  was  incomparably  the  best 
scholar,  and  the  most  variously  accomplished  man. 

Upon  the  completion  of  his  college  course,  he  studied  law  for 
five  years,  with  an  assiduity  most  unusual  in  the  heir  to  a  good 
estate.  He  had  a  clock  in  his  bedroom,  and  his  rule  in  summer 
was  to  get  up  as  soon  as  he  could  see  the  hands,  and  in  winter 
he  rose  uniformly  at  five.  Including  the  time  passed  in  music 
and  reading,  he  usually  spent  fourteen  hours  of  every  day  at 
bis  studies;  three  of  which,  he  tells  us,  were  sometimes  spent 
in  practising  on  the  violin.  There  has  seldom  been  a  young 
man  of  fortune  who  lived  more  purely  than  he.  He  neither 
practised  the  vices,  nor  indulged  the  passions,  of  his  class  in  the 
Virginia  of  that  day.  He  never  quarrelled  ;  he  never  gambled. 
His  mouth  was  innocent  of  tobacco.  He  never  drank  to  excess. 
Occupied  continually  in  the  improvement  of  his  mind,  except 
when  he  indulged  in  manly  and  innocent  recreations,  he  appears 
to  have  led  an  absolutely  stainless  life.  The  American  Demo- 
crat can  point  to  the  life  of  the  apostle  of  his  political  creed,  and 
boast  that  his  conduct  was  as  admirable  as  his  iutelli<2:ence  wa? 
commandins:.    . 

On  being  admitted  to  the  bar,  in  1767,  which  was  the  twenty- 
fourth  year  of  his  age,  he  appears  at  once  to  have  obtained  a 
considerable  share  of  business.  From  his  own  books  we  learu 
that,  during  the  first  year  of  his  practice,  he  was  employed  ir 


348  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGEAPHY. 

sixty -eight  cases  ;  the  next  year,  one  hundred  and  fifteen  ;  the 
next,  one  hundred  and  ninety-eight;  and,  until  he  was  drawn 
away  into  public  life  by  the  stirring  events  of  the  time,  his  busi- 
ness as  a  lawyer  continued  to  be  extensive.  In  due  time,  he 
was  happily  married  to  a  lady  suited  to  him  in  character  and  in 
fortune,  with  whom  he  lived  in  happiness  only  alloyed  by  the 
anxiety  caused  him  by  her  declining  health. 

Jefferson,  like  his  father  before  him,  was  eminently  and  pecu- 
liarly a  man  of  the  people.  He  was  a  Democrat  by  nature.  He 
was  a  Democrat  because  he  was  a  truly  intelligent  man  ;  because 
he  saw  things  as  they  are,  and  not  as  they  seem.  He  w^as  a 
Democrat  because  he  could  not  be  taken  in  by  the  shows  and  tra- 
ditions which  once  deceived  the  majority  of  educated  mankind. 
His  heart  would  have  told  him  that  all  men  are  brothers  and 
equals,  even  if  his  great  mind  had  not  discerned  it.  Therefore, 
during  the  whole  contention  between  George  the  Third  and  the 
people  of  the  American  Colonies,  he  sided  naturally  and  warmly 
with  the  people. 

After  taking  a  leading  part  in  organizing  resistance  in  Vir- 
ginia, he  was  elected  to  represent  that  province  in  the  Congress 
which  met  in  Philadelphia,  in  1775.  He  was  no  orator.  He 
never  spoke  longer  than  ten  minutes  in  his  life,  and  such  ad- 
dresses as  he  did  deliver  were  entirely  in  the  tone  of  conversa- 
tion. Nevertheless,  there  was  something  in  his  demeanor  and 
character  which  gave  him  a  commanding  influence  in  every  de- 
liberate body  to  which  he  ever  belonged.  His  colleagues  saw 
that  his  heart  was  in  the  cause,  and  that  his  grasp  of  the  princi- 
ples involved  in  it  was  complete  and  strong.  We  find  him 
serving  on  the  most  important  committees  in  Congress,  though 
he  was  almost  the  youngest  man  in  the  body ;  and  he  received, 
at  length,  a  striking  proof  of  the  confidence  of  members  when 
his  pen  was  employed  to  write  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
That  immortal  document  was,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  words, 
entirely  his  work. 

We  owe  to  Mr.  Jefferson's  diary  two  or  three  amusing  anec- 
dotes relating  to  the  acceptance  of  this  paper.  When  the 
members  were  signing  the  Declaration,  Benjamin  Harrison,  of 


TUOMxiS    JEFFERSON.  349 

Yirginia,  an  enormously  corpulent  man,  looking  at  the  slender, 
withered  form  of  Elbridge  Gerry,  of  Massachusetts,  said  :  — 

"Gerry,  when  the  hanging  comes,  I  shall  have  the  advantage ; 
you'll  kick  in  the  air  half  an  hour  after  it  is  all  over  with  me." 

It  was  about  this  time,  too,  that  Franklin  achieved  one  of  his 
celebrated  witticisms. 

"Wo  must  all  hang  together  in  this  business,"  said  one  of  tho 
members. 

"Yes,"  said  Franklin,  "^ve  must  all  hang  together,  or,  most 
assuredly,  we  shall  all  hang  separately." 

In  1779,  being  then  thirty-six  years  of  age,  at  the  gloomiest 
period  of  the  Revolution,  Mr.  Jefferson  was  elected  Governor  of 
Virginia.  Twice,  duiing  his  tenure  of  this  office,  he  was  obliged 
to  fly  at  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  and  on  one  occasion  his 
whole  estate  was  laid  waste  and  all  his  cattle  destroyed  or  driven 
ofi".  It  was,  doubtless,  the  fatigues  and  anxieties  of  this  period 
that  hastened  the  death  of  Mrs.  Jefferson,  —  an  event  which 
changed  all  the  subsequent  life  of  her  husband.  It  "was  his 
intention  and  strong  desire,  after  the  revolutionary  war,  to 
spend  the  rest  of  his  days  in  literary  labors  upon  his  Virginia 
farm,  but  the  death  of  his  ^vife  weaned  him  from  this  project 
and  rendered  him  w^illing  to  accept,  once  more,  a  public  trust. 
In  1783,  he  went  to  France  to  represent  his  country  at  the 
French  Court.  Franklin,  whom  he  succeeded  there,  had  won 
unbounded  popularity,  and  it  "svas  an  arduous  task  to  take  his 
place. 

"  You  replace  Doctor  Franklin,  I  hear,"  said  the  French  min- 
ister for  foreiirn  affairs  to  him,  at  their  first  interview. 

"No,"  was  Mr.  Jefferson's  apt  reply;  "I  succeed,  —  no  one 
can  replace  him." 

It  was  during  the  years  immediately  preceding  the  French 
Revolution  that  Mr.  Jefferson  represented  the  United  States  in 
France.  He  saw  and  foretold  the  coming  storm.  In  his  jour- 
neys about  the  country  it  was  his  custom  to  visit  the  hovels  of 
the  peasants,  and  he  saw  mothers  endeavoring  to  extract  sus- 
tenance for  their  children  from  thistles  and  weeds ;  and  he 
marked,  too,  with  the  indignation  becoming  a  man,  the  heart- 
less indifference  of  the  nobles  to  the  sufferings  of  their  country- 


350  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

men.  During  the  first  period  of  the  Kevolution  he  was  much 
consulted  b}^  its  leaders,  and  he  is  supposed  to  have  suggested 
some  of  their  most  important  measures. 

Before  the  Revolution  had  degenerated  into  riot  and  massacre, 
while  it  still  seemed  a  noble  and  hopeful  movement,  he  returned 
home,  and  was  immediately  invited  by  General  Washiugton  to 
accept  the  place  of  secretary  of  state  in  his  first  cabinet.  In 
this  office,  he  was  the  colleague  of  Hamilton,  and  a  wide  differ- 
ence of  opinion  speedily  manifested  itself  between  these  distin- 
guished men.  Jefferson  was  a  hearty  Republican ;  Hamilton 
was,  with  equal  sincerity,  a  believer  in  the  necessity  of  priv- 
ileged orders.  Jefferson  was  opposed  to  everything  in  the 
government  which  savored  of  monarchical  form  and  state.  The 
contests  between  these  two  able  persons  spread  to  their  friends 
and  followers,  and  thus  originated  in  the  United  States  the  two 
great  parties  which  have  ever  since  striven  for  the  supremacy. 

Twelve  years  passed.  General  ^Yashington  had  passed  away 
from  the  scene.  John  Adams  had  served  one  term  in  tho 
Presidency,  and  failed  to  be  re-elected.  The  Democratic  party 
triumphed  in  1801,  and  that  triumph  placed  Thomas  Jefferson 
in  the  presidential  chair. 

But  there  was  a  "  tie  "  between  Thomas  Jefferson  and  Aaron 
Burr,  each  of  them  having  received  seventy-three  electoral 
votes.  Not  that  any  single  voter  had  expected  or  desired  the 
elevation  of  Aaron  Burr  to  the  first  office.  The  difficulty  arose 
from  the  law,  which  provided  that  the  person  receiving  the 
greatest  number  of  electoral  votes  should  be  president,  and  that 
the  person  who  received  the  number  next  to  the  highest  should 
be  the  vice-president.  Jefferson  and  Burr  were  the  Republican 
candidates  for  president  and  vice-president,  and  as  each  chanced 
to  receive  the  same  number  of  electoral  votes,  neither  of  them 
w^as  elected  to  either  office,  and  the  choice  devolved  upon  tht 
House  of  Representatives.  Then  it  was  that  the  Federalists 
conceived  the  notable  idea  of  electing  Burr  to  the  presidency, 
and  thus  frustrating  the  dearest  wish  of  the  Republican  party. 

Excitement  and  alarm  prevailed  in  the  country  during  the 
interval,  and  it  seemed  for  some  days  as  if  civil  war  was 
imminent.    It  is  interesting  to  observe  the  demeanor  of  Thomas 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  351 

JcfTcrson  .n  such  trying  circumstances,  when  he  had  l)ecn  faiily 
elected  president,  and  his  political  opponents  were  conspiring 
to  cheat  him  of  the  office  and  the  people  of  the  gratification  of 
their  desires.  As  Mr.  Jellcrson  then  held  the  office  of  vice- 
president,  he  presided  daily  over  the  Senate,  and  thus  lived 
in  the  midst  of  the  strife  and  intri^fue.  Coraini;  out  of  tho 
senate  chamber,  one  day,  he  was  stopped  by  Gouverneur  ]\Ior- 
ris,  a  leader  of  the  Federalists,  who  began  to  converse  with  him 
on  the  alarmin<2:  state  of  thino^s  around  them. 

"The  reasons,"  said  Morris,  "why  the  minority  of  tlie  States 
are  so  opposed  to  your  being  elected  is  this  :  the}'  a])prehend 
that,  first,  you  will  turn  all  Federalists  out  of  office  ;  secondly, 
put  down  the  navy ;  thirdly,  wipe  off  the  public  debt.  Xow, 
you  only  need  to  declare,  or  authorize  your  friends  to  declare, 
that  you  will  not  take  these  steps,  and  instantly  the  event  of  the 
election  will  be  fixed." 

Mr.  Jefferson  replied,  with  the  dignity  becoming  his  position, 
that  he  should  leave  the  world  to  judge  of  the  course  he  meant 
to  pursue  by  that  which  he  had  pursued  hitherto,  believing  it  to 
be  his  duty  to  be  passive  and  silent  during  the  present  scene. 

"I  shall  certainly,"  continued  Mr.  Jefferson,  "make  no 
terms ;  I  shall  never  go  into  the  office  of  president  by  capitula- 
tion, nor  with  my  hands  ti,ed  by  any  conditions  which  would 
hinder  me  from  pursuing  the  measures  which  I  deem  for  the 
public  good." 

When  it  seemed  probable  that  no  election  would  take  place, 
the  Federalists  proposed  to  pass  a  law  placing  the  government 
in  the  hands  of  some  individual  until  the  people  themselves 
could  decide  the  question  by  another  vote. 

"But,"  says  Mr.  Jefferson  in  one  of  his  letters,  "we  thought 
it  best  to  declare  openly  and  firmly,  one  and  all,  that  the  day 
such  an  act  passed,  the  Middle  States  icould  arm,  and  that  no 
such  usurpation,  even  for  a  single  day,  should  be  submitted  to. 
This  first  shook  them,  and  they  were  completely  alarmed  at  the 
resource  for  which  we  declared,  to  wit :  a  convent-ion  to  re- 
organize the  government  and  to  amend  it.  The  very  word 
'  convention '  gives  them  the  horrors  ;  as,  in  the  present  demo- 


352  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

cratical  spirit  of  America,  they  fear  tliey  should  lose  some  of 
their  favorite  morsels  of  the  constitution." 

This  was  written  after  the  balloting  in  the  House  of  Eepre- 
sentatives  had  continued  for  four  da^^s.  Although  a  word  from 
Mr.  Jefferson  would  have  ended  the  struggle,  he  refused  to 
speak  that  word.  To  every  one  who  approached  him,  he 
said :  — 

"I  will  not  receive  the  government  in  capitulation ;  I  will  not 
go  into  office  with  my  hands  tied." 

The  Federalists  yielded  at  length,  and  on  the  thirty-sixth 
ballot  Mr.  Jefferson  was  elected  president  and  Aaron  Burr 
vice-president,  according  to  the  wish  and  intention  of  the 
majority  of  the  people.  A  few  days  after,  Mr.  Jefferson  retired 
from  the  chair  of  the  Senate,  after  addressing  them  a  brief 
speech  of  farewell.  President  Adams,  exasperated  by  his  un- 
expected defeat,  would  not  bring  himself  to  remain  in  AYash- 
in2:ton  lono^  enou<?h  to  witness  the  inaus^uration  of  his  successor, 
but,  about  daylight  on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  March,  he 
left  AYashington ;  and  thus,  for  a  few  hours,  there  was  actually 
no  head  to  the  government.  To  us,  reading  coolly  of  the  events 
of  those  times,  such  conduct  appears  undignified  and  silly.  We 
can,  however,  but  faintly  realize  the  madness  of  party  spirit  at 
that  day,  and  the  distrust  and  bitterness  with  which  the  elder 
Federalists  regarded  the  victorious  Republicans. 

According  to  custom.  Colonel  Burr  first  entered  the  senate 
chamber.  He  was  sworn  into  office  and  took  his  seat  in  the 
chair.  The  usual  multitude  was  present,  and  among  those  who 
looked  upon  the  spectacle  Avere  two  persons,  the  dearest  in  the 
world  to  the  new  vice-president,  —  his  daughter,  Theodosia, 
ftnd  her  husband,  married  a  few  days  before  at  Albany,  and 
now  pausing,  on  their  way  to  South  Carolina,  to  witness  the 
ceremony. 

Mr.  Jefferson  was  extremely  desirous  that  the  inauguration 
should  be  conducted  in  the  simplest  manner  possible.  It  is 
interesting  to  us,  familiar  with  the  grandeur  and  pomp  with 
which  the  heads  of  other  governments  surround  themselves,  to 
read  the  note  which  the  president-elect  wrote  to  Ch?ef-Justice 
Marshall  two  days  before  his  inauguration :  — 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  35!j 

**!  propose,"  he  says,  "to  take  the  oath  or  oaths  of  oflicc  as 
President  of  the  United  States  on  Wednesday,  the  4th  instant, 
at  twelve  o'clock,  in  the  senate-chamber.  May  I  hope  the 
favor  of  your  attendance  to  administer  the  oath.  .  .  .  Not 
being  yet  provided  with  a  private  secretary,  and  needing  some 
person  on  AVcdnesday  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  message  or  messages 
to  the  Senate,  I  presume  the  chief  clerk  of  the  Department  of 
State  might  be  employed  with  propriety.  Permit  me  through 
you  to  ask  the  favor  of  his  attendance  on  me  at  my  lodgings  on 
Wednesday,  after  I  shall  have  been  qualified.'* 

This  is  all  very  simple  and  republican.  AVc  are  used  to  it 
now  ;  but  at  that  day  it  was  new,  strange,  and  captivating.  An 
English  gentleman,  w^ho  was  then  passing  some  days  in  Wash- 
ington, recorded  in  his  diary  a  few  particulars  of  this  occasion, 
of  much  interest.  The  president-elect,  he  sa3's,  was  dressed 
in  plain  cloth,  which  was  very  unusual  at  that  time,  as  we  may 
see  in  old  portraits.  He  came  out  of  his  lodgings  unattended, 
and  mounted  his  horse,  which  had  been  waiting  for  him  before 
his  door.  He  rode  to  the  capitol,  unaccompanied  by  any 
friend,  and  Avithout  a  servant,  and  when  he  had  reached  the 
buildina'  he  dismounted  without  assistance,  and  with  his  own 
hands  tied  the  horse  to  a  paling  of  the  fence.  He  was  received 
at  the  steps  of  the  capitol  hy  a  large  number  of  his  political 
friends,  wdio  absolutely  would  not  permit  him  to  carry  out  his 
intention  of  going  alone  to  the  senate-chamber  to  take  the  oath 
of  office.  A  kind  of  procession  was  formed,  and  they  walked 
together  to  the  apartment. 

When  the  president-elect  Avas  seen  at  the  door,  the  audience 
rose  and  saluted  him  with  the  heartiest  cheers.  Colonel  Burr 
left  the  chair  usual  I}''  occupied  hy  the  president  of  the  Senate, 
and  took  his  seat  in  another  at  the  right.  On  the  left  of  the 
central  chair  sat  the  chief-justice.  Every  one  remarked  the 
absence  of  the  late  president  from  the  scene.  After  the  delay 
of  a  minute  or  two,  ]Mr.  Jefferson  rose  and  delivered  that  fine 
inausfural  address  wdiich  is  still  so  cheerin2r  and  instructive  to 
read.      Several   phrases  and   sentences  of   this    address   have 

23 


35i  PEOPLE'S     BOOK      OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

passed  into  proverbs.     One  of  the  most  noted  passages  was  the 
followinsf :  — 

"  Every  difference  of  opinion  is  not  a  difference  of  principle. 
We  have  called  by  different  names  brethren  of  the  same  princi- 
ple. We  are  all  Hepuhlicans — ive  are  all  Federalists.  If  there 
be  any  among  us  who  would  wish  to  dissolve  this  Union,  or  to 
change  its  republican  form,  let  them  stand  undisturbed,  as 
monuments  of  the  safety  with  ivhich  error  of  opinion  may  he 
tolerated  ivhere  reason  is  left  free  to  combat  it" 

Another  happy  touch  was  this  :  — 

"  Sometimes  it  is  said  that  man  cannot  he  trusted  with  the 
government  of  himself.  Can  he  then  be  trusted  with  the  gov- 
ernment of  others  ?  Or  have  we  found  angels  in  the  form  of 
kings  to  govern  him?     Let  history  answer  the  question." 

The  following  phrase  has  passed  into  common  speech,  and 
ought  forever  to  guide  the  diplomacy  of  America:  — 

''Peace,  commerce,  and  honest  friendship  with  all  nations  — 
entano-linof  alliances  with  none." 

The  following  passage  j)roduced  an  excellent  effect  at  the 
time  :  — 

"I  shall  often  go  wrong  through  defect  of  judgment.  When 
right  I  shall  often  be  thought  wrong  by  those  whose  positions 
will  not  command  a  view  of  the  whole  ground.  I  ask  your 
indulgence  for  my  own  errors,  which  will  never  be  intentional, 
and  your  support  against  the  errors  of  others,  who  may  condemn 
what  they  would  not  if  seen  in  all  its  parts." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  brief  address,  which  did  not  occupy 
more  than  fifteen  minutes,  the  oath  was  administered.  The 
assembly  then  broke  up,  and  the  politicians  of  both  parties 
proceeded  to  the  presidential  mansion  to  make  the  usual  calls 
upon  the  president  and  vice-president. 

Instantly,  everything  in  the  government  which  looked  like 
monarchy  was  abolished.  Instead  of  delivering  a  speech  to 
Couirress,  President  Jefferson  sent  a  written  messasje.  The 
rule  wai5  promulgated  that,  in  society  at  Washington,  —  and 
especially  at  the  president's  house,  —  there  should  be  no  such 
thing  as  precedence ,  but  all  persons  should  stand  upon  a  perfect 
equality.     On  two  days  of  the  year  —  the  Fh'st  of  January  and 


TnOMAS    JEFFERSON.  355 

the  Fourth  of  July  —  the  President  received  the  visit  of  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  who  chose  to  call  upon  him:  J^'id,  at 
other  times,  all  Avho  had  business  with  him  were  admitted  with 
no  more  ceremony  or  delay  than  would  be  ordinarily  employed 
by  any  man  whose  business  was  extensive  and  whose  time  was 
valuable.  When  the  president  had  occasion  to  visit  the  capitol 
—  which  is  two  miles  distant  from  the  presidential  mansion  — 
instead  of  riding  thither  in  a  coach-and-six,  as  previous  presi- 
dents had  done,  he  went  on  horseback,  unattended,  and  tied  his 
own  horse  to  a  rail  when  he  had  reached  the  building.  In  more 
important  matters,  his  administration,  I  believe  to  have  been 
among  the  wisest  and  the  purest  the  w^orld  has  ever  seen. 
Without  adding  any  new  tax,  without  a  land  tax,  an  excise  or  a 
stamp  tax,  thQ  government  was  supported  properly,  and  the 
public  debt  was  diminished  seven  millions  a  year.  The  army 
and  navy  were  reduced,  Louisiana  was  purchased,  and  the  pay- 
ment was  so  arranged  that  by  the  time  the  purchase-money 
became  due  the  new  territory  had  added  the  amount  to  the 
national  treasury.  Peace  w^as  preserved  with  all  nations,  and 
the  credit  and  character  of  the  republic  were  perfectly  sustained. 
So  satisfied  were  the  people  with  republican  rule,  that  ]\Ir.  Jef- 
ferson and  his  intimate  friends  continued  to  preside  over  the 
government  for  a  period  of  twenty-four  years.  James  ]\hidison 
and  James  Monroe  were  pupils  of  Thomas  Jeiferson,  and  heirs 
of  his  prestige  and  popularity. 

Eetiring  from  the  presidency  in  1809,  when  he  was  sixty-six 
years  of  age,  Mr.  Jeflerson  passed  the  rest  of  his  days  upon 
his  plantation  at  Monticello, — the  most  august,  beloved,  and 
venerated  character  upon  the  continent  of  America.  He  con- 
tinued to  serve  the  public  in  various  ways,  and  his  last  care  was 
to  perfect  the  organization  of  the  University  of  Virginia,  of 
which  he  was  the  founder.  To  the  aire  of  eiirhtv-three  he 
retained  his  intellectual  powers  little  diminished,  and  he  appears 
to  have  died  from  old  age  rather  than  from  disease.  On  the 
3d  of  July,  1826,  it  was  evident  to  those  around  him  that  he 
had  not  many  hours  to  live,  and  there  arose  within  them  a  great 
desire  that  his  life  might  be  spared,  so  that  he  could  die  on  the 
day  which  his  own  hands  had  signalized. 


356  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

'*As  twelve  o'clock  at  night  approached,"  wrote  one  of  his 
grandsons,  "w^e  anxiously  desired  that  his  death  should  be  hal- 
lowed by  the  anniversary  of  independence.  At  fifteen  minutes 
before  twelve  we  stood  noting  the  minute-hand  of  the  watch, 
hoping  for  a  few  minutes  of  prolonged  life.  At  four  in  the 
morning,  he  called  the  servants  in  attendance  with  a  strong  and 
clear  voice,  perfectly  conscious  of  his  wants.  He  did  not  speak 
again.  About  ten  he  fixed  his  eyes  intently  upon  me,  indicating 
some  want  which  I  could  not  understand,  until  his  attached  ser- 
vant, Burwell,  observed  that  his  head  was  not  so  much  elevated 
as  he  usually  desired  it,  for  his  habit  was  to  lie  with  it  very 
much  elevated.  Upon  restoring  it  to  its  usual  position,  he 
seemed  satisfied.  About  eleven,  again  fixing  his  eyes  upon  me 
and  moving  his  lips,  I  applied  a  wet  sponge  to  his  mouth,  which 
he  sucked,  and  appeared  to  relish.  This  was  the  last  evidence 
he  gave  of  consciousness.  He  ceased  to  breathe,  without  a 
struggle,  fifty  minutes  past  meridian,  July  4th,   1826." 

So  passed  from  the  scene  of  his  earthly  labors  the  man  who, 
in  my  opinion,  was  the  model  American  citizen,  whose  life  and 
writings  contain  more  to  instruct  and  guide  his  countrymen  in 
the  duties  of  citizenship  than  those  of  any  other  man.  His  very 
faults  had  more  of  virtue  in  them  than  the  good  deeds  of  some 
men.  I  wish  I  was  rich  enough  to  place  a  copy  of  his  writirgs 
in  every  school  district  of  the  United  States. 


SIR    FRANCIS    DRAKE.  SCT 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE. 


-♦o*- 


Think  of  a  boy  of  eighteen  owning  and  commanding  a  ship  1 
This  was  the  case,  we  are  told,  with  Drake,  — another  of  those 
Heroes  of  the  Sea  whose  deeds  shed  such  lustre  upon  the  age 
of  Shakespeare  and  Elizabeth.  The  ship  was  small,  it  is  true, 
and  the  voyages  it  made  were  short ;  still  it  was  a  ship,  and  it 
was  sailed  (successfully,  too)  by  a  lad  of  eighteen.  The  way 
it  came  about  was  this :  — 

Francis  Drake,  born  on  the  southern  coast  of  England,  about 
the  year  1545,  was  one  of  the  twelve  sons  of  a  chaplain  in  the 
uavy.  The  father  of  this  fine  family  of  boys  began  life  as  a 
farmer;  but  having  renounced  the  Catholic  religion,  and  joined 
the  Church  of  England,  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  liked  to  encour- 
age such  conversions,  made  a  naval  chaplain  of  him,  and  after- 
wards gave  him  a  small  living  on  shore.  Francis,  the  eldest  of 
his  sons,  was  educated  at  the  expense  of  a  relative  of  the  family, 
that  valiant  seaman,  Admiral  Sir  John  Hawkins.  It  was  prob- 
ably the  success  and  renown  of  this  admiral  that  induced  Francis 
Drake  and  most  of  his  brothers  to  take  to  the  sea. 

He  did  not,  however,  get  into  a  ship,  as  the  sailors  say, 
"throufifh  the  cabin  windows."  When  he  was  about  twelve 
years  old  he  was  regularly  apprenticed  to  the  captain  of  a  small 
vessel  trading  with  Holland  and  France,  in  which  he  took  the 
place  of  cabin-boy.  The  cabin-boy  of  a  ship,  in  former  times, 
like  the  youngest  apprentice  in  a  shop,  was  required  to  do  all 
the  odd,  disagreeable  jobs,  such  as  greasing  the  mast,  washing 
the  dishes,  furling  the  topmost  sail,  coiling  up  the  ropes,  tarring 
the  cable,  and  feeding  the  pig.  Young  Drake  performed  his 
duties  so  well,  learned  his  business  so  thoroughly,  and  won  the 
confidencf^.  and  affection  of  his  captain  to  such  a  degree,  that  the 


358  PEOPLE'S    BOOK     OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

captain,  dying  when  Drake  was  eighteen,  bequeathed  him  hig 
vessel.  The  young  man  soon  proved  his  fitness  to  command. 
Having  made  one  successful  voyage  to  the  western  ports  of 
France,  he  sailed  next  to  Africa,  and  brought  home  a  good 
share  of  the  gold  dust  and  elephants'  tusks  of  Guinea. 

On  his  return  to  England  he  found  his  kinsman  and  patron, 
Sir  John  Hawkins,  preparing  a  fleet,  aided  by  Queen  Elizabeth, 
for  a  grand  trading  voyage  to  Guinea  and  the  West  Indies. 

This  Admiral  Hawkins  will  be  long  remembered,  as  the  Eng- 
lishman who  began  the  African  slave-trade.  Twice  already  he 
had  visited  the  coast  of  Guinea,  and,  partly  by  purchase  and 
partly  by  artifice,  had  filled  his  ship  with  negroes,  whom  he  sold 
to  the  Spaniards  in  the  West  Indies  at  an  enormous  profit.  No 
one  then  saw  anything  wrong  in  the  traffic  ;  on  the  contrary,  the 
whole  world  applauded  it,  and  the  queen  herself  bestowed  upon 
Hawkins  unusual  marks  of  approbation.  She  permitted  him  to 
add  to  his  coat-of-arms  the  figure  of  a  bound  African ;  she  re- 
ceived him  at  court,  and  gave  every  encouragement  to  his  con- 
tinuing the  trade  in  slaves.  Captain  Drake,  too,  discovering 
what  was  afoot,  sold  his  own  vessel,  invested  all  his  property  in 
the  new  expedition,  and  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  one 
of  its  largest  shij)s. 

Having  reached  the  coast  of  Guinea,  five  hundred  negroes 
were  quickly  procured,  and  the  fleet  sailed  to  Spanish  America 
for  the  purpose  of  selling  them.  An  unforeseen  difficulty  arose  : 
Orders  had  come  from  Spain  forbidding  all  trade  between  the 
Spanish  colonies  and  foreign  nations.  At  another  port,  how- 
ever, Hawkins  succeeded  in  selling  his  miserable  cargo ;  but  on 
his  way  home  he  was  attacked  by  a  Spanish  fleet,  and  he  escaped 
but  with  two  of  his  six  vessels,  and  with  the  loss  of  all  the  prop- 
erty invested  in  the  enterprise.  Captain  Drake  succeeded  in 
rescuing  his  ship  from  the  foe  ;  but  he  reached  England  a  ruined 
man. 

Although  the  King  of  Spain  was  already  meditating  the  con- 
quest of  England,  the  two  nations  were  still  at  peace,  and 
Captain  Drake  therefore  applied  to  the  Spanish  government  for 
the  restoration  of  the  property  unlawfully  seized.    His  demands 


SIE     FRANCIS     DIIAKK.  350 

being  (Ifisrcgarclcd,  he  swore  to  take  hy  force  what  had  been 
denied  to  his  solicitjitions. 

Never  was  an  oath  better  kept.  In  1772  he  contrived  to 
equip  and  arm  two  small  vessels,  and  o])tained  from  tlie  queen 
a  commission  such  as  was  requisite  for  his  purpose.  Joined  by 
a  third  vessel  in  the  South  American  waters,  he  suddenly  de- 
scended upon  the  coasts  of  New  Granada,  plundered  the  settle- 
ments, burnt  the  Spanish  shipping,  and  held  the  whole  region 
at  his  mercy.  He  returned  to  England  laden  with  a  prodigious 
boot}^,  —  enough  to  make  him  one  of  the  richest  private  persons 
in  Europe.  This  sudden  attack  upon  a  defenceless  people  was 
hailed  in  England  as  a  most  heroic  and  proper  act,  and  the 
queen  received  him  with  distinguished  favor.  AYe  must  not, 
however,  judge  of  those  times  by  modern  standards.  Spain  and 
England,  though  technically  at  peace,  were  really  at  w^ar,  and 
so  remained  until  the  total  destruction  of  the  armada,  in  1588^ 
reduced  Spain  to  the  rank  of  a  second-rate  powder. 

Captain  Drake  had  not  yet  done  w^ith  the  Spaniards.  While 
he  w^as  upon  the  Isthmus  of  Darien  he  had  seen  from  a  moun- 
tain-top the  Pacific  Ocean.  He  now  laid  before  the  queen  a 
project  of  sailing  round  South  America,  by  way  of  the  newly 
discovered  Straits  of  Magellan,  and  falling  upon  the  unprotected 
coasts  of  Peru,  whence  the  Spaniards  were  drawing  cargoes  of 
gold.  Elizabeth,  w^e  may  almost  say,  jumped  at  the  proposal. 
With  six  vessels  and  one  hundred  and  sixty-four  men,  this  bold 
adventurer  set  sail,  and  made  his  way  to  Patagonia.  He  was 
five  weeks  in  £:ettin2:  throuah  the  straits,  and  when  he  emerged 
into  the  broad  Pacific,  he  had  but  the  ship  commanded  by  him- 
self, named  the  Golden  Hind.  Two  vessels  he  had  himself 
emptied  and  turned  adrift,  and  three  others  had  turned  back 
and  gone  to  England.  On  board  his  own  ship  he  had  fifty -seven 
men,  and  three  casks  of  w^ater. 

Undaunted,  he  held  to  his  purpose,  and  reached  in  safety  the 
shores  of  Peru.  He  plundered  the  Spanish  settlements ;  he 
captured  a  Spanish  ship  loaded  with  gold  and  silver ;  he  sailed 
along  the  coast  to  California,  of  which  he  took  formal  posses- 
sion in  the  name  of  the  Queen  of  England.  Then,  laden  deep 
with  booty,  he  thought  to  find  a  northern  passage  back  into  the 


360  TEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Atlantic.  Northward  he  sailed  until  he  reached  the  region  of 
eternal  cold,  but  found  no  gap  in  the  ice-bound  coast.  Desirous, 
above  all  things,  to  avoid  the  Spanish  cruisers,  he  came  to  the 
resolution  to  sail  westward,  and  endeavor  to  reach  England  by 
completing  the  circumnavigation  of  the  globe.  He  accomplished 
his  purpose,  and  reached  England  in  1580,  after  an  absence  of 
two  years,  nine  months,  and  thirteen  da^'s.  This  was  regarded 
as  an  immense  achievement.  The  queen  knighted  Captain 
Drake,  and  came  on  board  his  ship,  where  she  partook  of  a 
banquet ;  and  when  the  Spanish  king  demanded  his  surrender, 
as  a  buccaneer,  she  refused  to  give  him  up. 

Drake  soon  had  an  opportunity  of  glutting  his  vengeance 
against  the  Spaniards.  Such  exploits  as  his,  sanctioned  and 
rewarded  by  the  Queen  of  England,  led,  finally,  to  open  and 
declared  war  between  the  two  powers.  Again,  in  command  of 
a  powerful  fleet,  he  ravaged  and  plundered  the  Spanish  towns  in 
America,  and,  visiting  Virginia,  brought  away  to  England 
the  settlers  planted  there  by  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh.  In  1587,  with 
a  fleet  of  thirty  armed  ships,  he  sailed  boldly  into  Cadiz,  and 
there  destroyed  a  hundred  Spanish  vessels,  which  he  called 
**  singeing  the  beard  of  the  King  of  Spain."  Next  year,  the 
Invincible  Armada  approached  the  shores  of  England.  On  the 
great,  immortal  day  which  saw  that  mighty  armament  defeated 
and  dispersed.  Sir  Francis  Drake  was  second  in  command  of  the 
British  fleet,  and  bore  a  man's  part  in  the  tremendous  conflict. 
In  the  year  following  he  was  again  on  the  coast  of  Spain  with 
a  great  fleet,  desolating  every  point  which  he  attacked,  and 
keeping  the  whole  peninsula  in  terror. 

There  was  then  a  short  interval  of  peace  between  the  two 
countries,  during  which  Admiral  Drake  represented  the  town  of 
Plymouth  in  parliament.  War  being  renewed  in  1594,  we  see 
him  once  more  in  the  West  Indies,  under  his  old  patron.  Sir 
John  Hawkins.  This  was  the  last  of  his  services.  Hawkins 
dying  from  a  wound  received  in  action,  Drake  assumed  com- 
mand of  the  forces,  and  committed  great  havoc  among  the 
Spanish  settlements ;  but  part  of  his  troops  having  met  with  a 
reverse,  he  took  it  so  much  to  heart  that  he  fell  sick  of  a  fever. 


SIR    FRANCIS    DRAKE.  3G1 

He  died  on  board  his  ship,  aged  fifty  years,  and  his  remains 
were  committed  to  the  deep. 

It  thus  appears  that  this  brave  man  spent  his  life  in  warring 
upon  the  Spaniards.  What  ought  we  to  think  of  him?  Was 
he  a  buccaneer,  or  a  patriot  sailor  waging  legitimate  warfare? 
I  answer  the  question  thus  :  — 

The  w^orst  man  of  whom  history  gives  any  account,  and  the 
most  formidable  enemy  modern  civilization  has  had  to  encounter, 
was  Philip  II.,  King  of  Spain.  He  was  a  moody,  ignorant, 
cruel,  sensual,  cowardly  hypocrite.  So  long  as  that  atrocious 
tyrant  wielded  the  resources  of  the  Spanish  monarch3^  —  then 
the  most  powerful  on  earth  —  the  first  interest  of  human  nature 
was  the  reduction  of  his  power.  To  do  this  was  the  great  ob- 
ject and  the  almost  ceaseless  efibrt  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  the 
protestant  powers  in  alliance  with  her.  In  lending  a  hand  to 
this  work,  Francis  Drake  was  fighting  on  the  side  of  civilization, 
and  preparing  the  way  for  such  an  America  as  we  see  around  us 
now ;  for,  in  limiting  the  power  of  Philip,  he  was  rescuing  the  . 
fiiirest  portions  of  America  from  the  blight  of  Spanish  super- 
stition, Spanish  cruelty,  and  Spanish  narrowness.  That  he 
fought  his  share  of  this  fight  in  a  wild,  rough,  buccaneering 
manner,  was  the  fault  of  his  age,  more  than  his  own.  His 
voyage  round  the  world,  too,  marks  an  era  in  the  history  of 
naviojation. 


362  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OiT    BIOGRAPHY. 


HENRY   HUDSON. 


2^ot  Heindrick  Hudson,  as  it  is  sometimes  printed,  and  as  it 
is  painted  on  the  sides  of  a  large  steamboat  that  plies  on  the 
river  which  Hudson  discovered.  Captain  Hudson  was  no  Dutch- 
man ;  he  was  an  English  sailor,  with  an  Englisli  name,  and  that 
name  w^as  Henry. 

The  reason  why  his  name  is  so  frequently  spelt  in  the  Dutch 
manner  is,  that,  when  he  discovered  the  Hudson  river,  he  was 
sailiug  in  the  service  of  a  company  of  Dutch  merchants.  This 
was  the  reason,  too,  why  Manhattan  Island  and  the  shores  of 
the  Hudson  river  once  belonged  to  Holland  and  were  settled  by 
the  Dutch,  and  why,  to  this  day,  many  of  the  old  families  of 
New  York  have  Dutch  names,  Dutcli  faces,  a  Dutch  buikl,  and 
a  comfortable  Dutch  disposition.  Down  to  the  time  of  the  rev- 
olutionary war  there  was  more  Dutch  spoken  in  the  streets  of 
New  York  than  English,  and  Albany  was  almost  as  Dutch  a 
town  as  Amsterdam  itself.  All  this  was  because  an  English 
sailor  chanced  to  make  one  of  his  many  voyages  in  a  ship  be- 
lon2:iD2:  to  Dutchmen. 

Henry  Hudson  lived  in  this  world  about  fifty  years,  but  noth- 
ing whatever  is  known  of  his  life  except  of  the  last  four  years 
of  it.  Born  about  the  year  1560,  when  Queen  Elizabeth  was 
still  in  the  bloom  of  young  womanhood,  he  does  not  appear  in 
history  until  1607,  in  the  spring  of  which  year  we  discover  him 
captain  of  a  vessel  anchored  in  the  Thames,  about  to  sail  on  a 
voyage  of  discovery.  The  idea  still  haunted  the  minds  of  all 
geographers  that  there  inust  be  a  way  of  getting  to  China  and  the 
East  Indies  nearer  than  by  going  round  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
—  a  voj'age  of  sixteen  thousand  miles.  They  thought  that,  some- 
where in  the  northern  part  of  one  of  the  continents,  there  musi 


HENRY    HUDSON.  3G3 

be  an  opening  through  which  those  rich  countries  could  ])g 
reached  by  a  short  cut,  that  Avould  save,  at  least,  one-half  the 
distance.  The  wish  was  father  to  the  thought.  Kings  and  mer- 
chants, for  three  hundred  years,  poured  out  their  treasures  freely 
in  expeditions  to  discover  this  imaginary  opening.  The  vessel 
lying  in  the  Thames,  below  London,  in  April,  1G07,  of  which 
Henry  Hudson  was  master,  had  been  fitted  by  a  company  of 
rich  London  merchants  to  continue  the  search. 

It  was  a  small  vessel,  with  a  crew  consisting  of  the  captain, 
ten  men  and  a  boy.  Sailing  on  the  1st  of  May,  Captain  Hud- 
son directed  his  course  toward  the  north-west,  and,  after  sailino: 
forty-three  clays,  saw  what  he  concluded  to  be  the  eastern  coast 
of  Greenland.  A  month  later  he  had  reached  Spitzbergen  isles, 
where  he  landed,  and  found  traces  of  cattle,  as  well  as  of  seals, 
and  some  streams  of  fresh  water.  He  pushed  northward  until  ho 
was  within  eleven  hundred  miles  of  the  north  pole,  where  he  was 
stopped  by  mountains  of  ice.  He  struggled  with  the  ice  for  a 
while,  skirting  along  the  glittering  barrier,  seeking  a  passage, 
but  finding  none.  He  was  compelled,  at  length,  to  turn  his 
prow  southward,  and  he  reached  England  in  September,  bafiled, 
but  not  discouraged.  He  had  been  absent  four  months  and 
fifteen  days. 

In  the  April  following,  in  the  same  little  ship,  and  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  same  English  company,  he  sailed  again  to  the  seas 
north  of  Europe,  and  spent  another  summer  in  an  arduous  but 
fruitless  attempt  to  pierce  the  ice  that  had  blocked  his  way  the 
year  before.  Late  in  the  month  of  August,  after  an  absence  of 
four  months,  he  returned  to  England,  again  defeated,  but  as 
resolute  to  continue  the  search  as  ever.  But  the  gentlemen  who 
had  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  voyage  now  lost  faith  in  the  en- 
terprise, and  declined  to  bear  the  charge  of  another  attempt. 

Then  it  was  that  Henry  Hudson  repaired  to  Holland,  one  of 
the  great  sea  powers  of  the  world ;  perhaps  the  first  of  the 
maritime  nations  in  1608. 

A  company  of  Dutch  merchants  furnished  him  with  a  ship, 
and,  in  the  spring  of  1609,  he  was  ready  once  more  to  sail  for 
the  frozen  seas.  His  crew  w\as  composed  of  Dutch  and  English 
sailors.     Early  in  April  he  sailed  from  Holland,  and  directed 


364  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGRAPHY. 

his  course  to  the  northernmost  point  of  Europe,  which  he 
doubled  and  then  pushed  westward,  along  the  northern  coast  of 
that  continent.  Fearful  W'as  his  wrestle  with  the  ice,  and  the 
cold  was  most  intense.  His  crew,  part  Dutch  and  part  Eng- 
lish, had  not  lived  well  together  from  the  beginning;  but  when 
difficulty  and  suffering  had  soured  the  temper  of  both  parties, 
all  the  crew  became  discontented,  and  demanded  to  have  the 
course  of  the  vessel  changed  to  more  temperate  climates.  Cap- 
tain Hudson,  a  man  too  gentle  and  yielding  for  the  situation, 
instead  of  silencing  this  clamor  at  the  pistol's  mouth,  and  put- 
ting the  mutineers  in  irons  (the  old  Portuguese  fashion),  par- 
leyed with  the  men,  and  agi-eed,  at  last,  to  sail  over  to  the  coast 
of  America,  and  try  for  a  break  in  that  continent.  Hudson  had 
been  acquainted  with  Captain  John  Smith,  of  Virginia,  and  had 
received  from  him  maps  and  charts  of  the  coast  of  North  Amer- 
ica, as  well  as  verbal  explanations. 

To  this  change  of  course,  extorted  by  a  sulky  and  mutmous 
crew.  Captain  Hudson  owes  the  immortality  of  his  name.  Hav- 
ing reached  the  coast  of  America  in  July,  1609,  he  crept  along 
the  shore,  until  he  discovered  the  gap  so  familiar  to  New  York- 
ers, now  called  the  Narrows,  w^hich  conducted  him  into  New 
York  harbor,  and  thence  into  the  Hudson  Kiver.  He  sailed  up 
this  majestic  stream  as  far  as  the  head  of  navigation,  and  ex- 
plored it  in  a  boat  many  miles  more,  — to  a  point,  probably,  as 
high  as  Troy.  Much  time  having  been  consumed  in  this  explo- 
ration, he  had  difficulty  in  procuring  provisions,  and  his  crew 
■were  again  in  a  mutinous  disposition.  He  had  a  w^orld  of  ti'ouble 
with  them,  —  as  every  captain  will  have  who  has  not  in  him  the 
true  spirit  of  a  master^ — and  he  thought  it  best  to  return  to 
Europe.  He  reached  home  in  November,  having  been  gone 
seven  months. 

Despite  the  perils  and  difficulties  of  those  three  voyages, 
Hudson  was  as  eager  as  ever  to  renew  the  quest,  and  again  of- 
fered his  services  to  the  English  company  for  whom  he  had  first 
sailed  to  the  North.  They  agreed,  to  provide  him  with  a  ship, 
but  demanded  that  he  should  take  with  him,  as  mate,  a  man 
named  Colebrune,  w^ho  was  supposed  to  be  a  navigator  of  great 
skill.      C()lebrune  came  on  board  while  the  ship  was  getting 


HENRY    HUDSON.  oGij 

rcnJy  for  sea,  and  Hudson  perceived  that  if  that  man  sailed  with 
him  the  ship  would  have  two  captains.  Instead  of  stating  tho 
case  frankly  to  the  owners  of  the  ship,  and  requiring  them  to 
choose  between  him  and  his  rival,  and  say  which  of  the  two 
should  stay  behind,  he  got  rid  of  Colcbrune  by  a  stratagem. 
The  ship  being  ready  for  sea,  and  lying  at  Blackwell,  seven 
miles  below  London,  Captain  Hudson  sent  Colcbrune  to  the 
city  with  a  letter ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  unsuspecting  mate  was  well 
on  his  way,  the  captain  hoisted  his  anchors,  slipped  out  of  the 
Thames  and  put  to  sea.  This  act  lessened  the  respect  of  the 
crew  for  him,  weakened  his  authority,  and  gave  a  pretext  for 
mutiny. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  April,  IGIO,  that  he  set  sail  on 
this  his  last  and  lamentable  voyage.  He  had  not  been  a  month 
at  sea  before  he  discovered  that  his  crew  were  plotting  to  re- 
move him  from  command,  alleging  as  a  reason  that  the  sending 
aw^ay  of  Colcbrune  was  an  act  equivalent  to  usuqDation.  He 
managed,  though  wdth  difficulty,  to  suppress  this  conspiracy ; 
and,  after  two  months  of  voyaging,  he  reached  that  wide  open- 
inir  into  North  America  which  leads  to  wdiat  is  now  called  Hud- 
son's  Bay, — the  largest  bay  of  the  whole  continent.  He  now 
thought  that  he  had  accomplished  the  great  object.  He  sup- 
posed that  iliis  was  the  long-sought  passage  to  the  Pacific.  We 
can  imagine  his  disappointment  when,  after  sailing  into  the  great 
bay  as  far  as  he  could  go,  and  coasting  around  its  sides  for 
nearly  three  months,  he  was  compelled  at  last  to  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  this  vast  interior  sea  had  no  outlet  into  tho 
Pacific. 

It  was  noAV  near  the  first  of  October,  and  the  ice  was  hem- 
ming him  in.  It  was,  indeed,  already  too  late  for  the  ship  to 
regain  the  Atlantic,  and  he  saw^  himself  obliged  to  winter  in 
that  region  of  desolation,  with  a  crew  in  the  worst  possible  tem- 
per w^itli  him  and  wdth  one  another.  Their  provisions  were 
running  low%  and  it  was  only  by  incessant  hunting  of  wild  birds 
and  animals  that  the  crew  were  saved  from  starvation.  Eight 
months  rolled  w^earily  by  before  the  ice  showed  signs  of  break 
ing  up.     June  came  in,  and  the  icy  surface  began  to  heave. 


366  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGRAPHY. 

By  the  middle  of  June  the  ice  was  loose  around  the  sliip,  and 
Captain  Hudson  prepared  for  the  voyage  home. 

Somethinof  told  him  that  he  should  never  see  his  native  land 
again;  and,  before  sailing,  he  made  his  dispositions,  as  if  in  ex- 
pectation of  a  speedy  death.  It  was  doubtful  in  the  extreme 
if  the  provisions  left  would  keep  them  alive  till  they  could  reach 
England,  and,  accordingly,  he  divided  the  remaining  biscuit 
equally  among  the  men.  He  gave  to  each  of  them  a  certificate 
of  his  services,  and  a  statement  of  the  wages  due  to  him.  Dur- 
ing these  last  preparations  he  was  sometimes  so  affected  by  the 
ruinous  fiiilure  of  all  his  endeavors,  and  so  touched  with  com 
passion  for  the  sufferings  of  his  crew,  that  he  was  often  seen  to 
shed  tears. 

There  was  a  captain's  party  and  an  opposition  party  among 
the  crew.  Those  who  adhered  to  the  captain  were  his  son  (who 
was  only  a  boy) ,  ]\Ir.  Woodhouse  (a  scientific  volunteer) ,  and 
five  sailors,  —  eight  persons  in  all,  —  among  whom  there  was 
scarcely  a  man  who  was  not  lame  and  weak  from  the  scurvy. 
The  pai-ty  hostile  to  the  captain  consisted  of  fourteen  men,  most 
of  whom  were  still  in  tolerable  health.  The  chief  of  this  fac- 
tion was  a  young  man,  named  Henry  Green,  a  protege  of  Hud- 
son, who  owed  all  to  the  captain's  bounty,  and  whose  life  he 
had  saved.  This  man  excited  his  comrades  to  revolt,  and 
wi'ought  them  up  to  commit  one  of  the  most  heUish  crimes  on 
record. 

It  was  June  21,  1611.  The  ship  was  all  ready  to  begin  her 
homeward  voyage.  The  water  of  Hudson's  Bay,  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  was  .covered  with  fragments  of  floating  ice. 
The  sails  of  the  ship  were  hoisted,  and  one  of  her  boats  was 
floating  at  her  side.  At  a  signal,  the  foui-teen  mutineers  rose 
upon  the  faithful  eight,  seized  them,  thrust  them  into  the  boat, 
threw  in  some  ammunition,  a  fowling  piece,  an  iron  pot,  and  a 
bag  of  meal.  That  done,  they  cast  off'  the  rope,  made  all  sail, 
and  left  the  captain,  his  boy,  and  his  friends,  to  their  fate. 
Notliing  was  ever  heard  of  them.  Doubtless  they  all  perished 
miserably  within  a  few  days ;  for  at  that  season  birds  cannot  be 
fomid  in  the  frozen  regions.     The  mutineers  knew  this  well ; 


HENKY     HUDSON.  3G7 

for,  ill  that  very  month,  a  party  had  been  out  hunthig  eight  days 
without  getting  a  single  ounce  of  food. 

A  few  days  after,  Green  and  his  chief  abettor  were  killed  in 
a  fight  with  some  Indians.  Another  of  the  chief  mutineers  died 
of  hunger.  A  miserable  remnant  of  the  crew,  emaciated  to  the 
last  degree,  reached  England  in  September,  where  two  of  their 
number  revealed  what  had  been  done.  I  cannot  discover  whether 
or  not  the  mutineers  were  punished  for  their  perfidy  after  they 
reached  England. 

In  the  following  spring,  two  vessels  were  sent  out  by  the 
same  company,  for  the  twofold  object  of  rescuing  Hudson  and 
his  party,  and  of  continuing  the  search  for  a  passage  through 
the  continent.  Neither  of  these  objects  were  accomplished,  nor 
was  any  trace  discovered  of  the  abandoned  mariners.  The  foul 
treachery  of  which  Hudson  was  the  victim  probably  rescued  his 
discovery  from  oblivion;  since,  had  not  he  and  his  seven  com- 
rades been  destroyed,  it  is  certain  that  the  whole  ship's  company 
would  have  died  of  starvation  before  they  could  have  navigated 
their  vessel  across  the  Atlantic.  Thus,  one  mutiny  made  liim 
the  discoverer  of  the  Hudson  River,  and  another,  which  cost 
him  his  life,  preserved  to  mankind  his  discovery  of  Hudson's 
Bay. 


3G8  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 


JAQDES   CARTIER. 


Reader,  clo  you  happen  to  know  why  the  great  river  of  Can- 
ada was  named  the  St.  Lawrence?  Probabl}^  not.  But  let  me 
assure  you,  that  knowledge  of  that  seemingly  unimportant  de- 
scription is  not  to  be  despised,  for  the  whole  history  of  America 
is  contained  in  the  names  on  its  map.  The  man  that  could 
open  the  map  of  the  western  continent,  and,  putting  his  finger 
on  every  name,  tell  why  and  when  it  received  that  name,  would 
know  the  history  of  America  better  than  any  man  has  ever 
known  it,  or  will  ever  know  it.  Take  this  word  Lawrence,  for 
example,  which  occurs  on  the  map  of  North  America  forty-four 
times. 

Probably  thirty-five  of  the  places  named  Lawrence,  Law- 
renceville,  or  Lawrenceburg,  were  so  named  in  honor  of  Captain 
James  Lawrence,  whose  d^^ing  words  thrilled  every  patriotic 
heart  in  the  war  of  1812.  Others  were  named  after  the  great 
Boston  merchants,  Amos  and  Abbott  LawTcnce.  The  river  St. 
Lawrence  received  that  designation  because  the  day  on  which 
the  gulf  into  w^hich  it  empties  was  discovered,  was  the  day 
dedicated  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  to  the  memorv  of  the 
martyr,  St.  Lawrence.  Thus,  in  that  single  name  is  summed 
up  :  1.  The  history  of  the  discovery  of  Canada ;  2.  The  history 
of  the  war  of  1812  ;  3.  The  history  of  American  manufiictures  ; 
4.  The  historv  and  orenius  of  the  Catholic  Church. 

Gold  lured  the  Spaniards  to  South  America  and  Mexico ;  but 
the  humbler  bait  which  attracted  the  French  to  Northern  Amer- 
ica was  codfish.  In  Catholic  countries  there  are  so  many  days 
on  which  meat  may  not,  and  fish  may  be,  eaten,  that  fish  is  an 
article  of  very  great  importance ;  and  this  was  perhaps  the  rea- 
son w^hy  the  French,  as  early  as  1525,  only  thirty-three  years 


JAQUES      CARTIER.  3(30 

after  the  discovery  of  America,  had  a  considerable  fleet  of  fish- 
ing vessels  on  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland.  There  is  a  letter  in 
existence,  written  in  1527,  to  Henry  VIII.,  King  of  England, 
in  which  the  writer  says,  that  he  counted  at  one  time,  in  one 
harbor  of  Newfoundland,  twelve  French  fishing  ships.  At 
present  you  may  sometimes  see  two  or  three  hundred  schooners 
on  the  Banks  in  caie  view.  I  have  m^^self  counted  one  hundred 
and  fifty,  all  hailing  from  New  England.  But  at  that  early 
period  a  fleet  of  twelve  vessels  so  far  from  home  was  something 
marvellous,  and  indicates  a  very  profitable  enterprise.  Indeed, 
we  know  from  many  of  the  old  books  that  there  was  a  *'  codfish 
aristocracy "  in  France  three  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago. 
Many  of  the  proudest  nobility  of  Europe  did  not  disdain  to 
increase  their  revenues  by  taking  shares  in  a  Newfoundland 
fishing-smack. 

Francis  I.  was  King  ot  France  then,  'and  Charles  Y.  was  King 
of  Spain.  Charles  was  a  man  of  force  and  ability,  who  pushed 
his  conquests  in  the  New  World  as  well  as  in  the  Old.  Francis 
was  a  vain,  weak  king,  whom  Charles  signally  defeated,  and  in 
every  way  surpassed. 

Now,  observe  how  the  most  trifling  things  produce  sometimes 
the  greatest  consequences,  and  how  the  meanest  motives  suggest 
the  grandest  achievements.  The  Admiral  of  France,  Chabot, 
had  the  right  to  levy  a  small  tax,  for  his  own  benefit,  on  every 
vessel  going  to  sea  for  fish.  This  made  him  acquainted  with 
and  interested  in  the  new  fisheries  of  North  America.  He  knew 
how  much  they  needed  protection  against  the  ships  of  other 
nations  claimins:  the  exclusive  ri2:ht  to  fish  in  those  seas.  He 
endeavored  to  interest  the  king  in  the  subject,  dwelling  much 
upon  the  glory  to  be  acquired  in  causing  to  be  explored  and 
colonized  the  vast  rci^rions  of  the  New  World.  The  kin^^,  im- 
poverished  by  his  wars  with  Charles  V.,  would  naturally  have 
declined  to  enter  upon  so  costly  an  enterprise,  had  not  the  feel- 
ing of  rivalry,  inflamed  by  those  wars,  gained  the  mastery  over 
his  prudence. 

"The  Kings  of  Spain  and  Portugal,'*  said  he,  "are  taking 
possession   of  the  New  World,   without  giving  me  a  part.     I 

24 


370  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

should  like  to  see  the  article  in  Adam's  last  will  which  gives 
them  America." 

Thus  it  was  the  little  tax,  which  swelled  the  income  of  a  great 
lord  and  the  vanity  of  a  foolish  monarch,  which  set  on  foot  the 
voyages  of  discovery  that  resulted  in  revealing  North  America 
to  the  Old  World,  and  opening  it  to  the  uses  of  civilized  man- 
kind. 

In  the  spring  of  1534,  two  ships  of  sixty  tons  each  (large 
vessels  for  that  time)  were  made  ready  at  St.  Malo,  a  port  in 
the  north  of  France,  to  which  most  of  the  Newfoundland  fisher- 
men belonged,  and  which,  to  this  day,  sends  to  the  fishing-banks 
a  considerable  number  of  vessels.  The  command  of  the  expe- 
dition was  given  to  Jaques  Cartier,  a  native  of  St.  Malo.  Car- 
tier,  a  sailor  of  great  experience  and  renown,  who  had  probably 
visited  the  fishing-banks,  was  forty  3^ears  of  age  when  he  took 
command  of  these  vessels,  which  contained  one  hundred  and 
twentv-two  sailors  and  adventurers. 

Setting  sail  on  the  20th  of  April,  1534,  favorable  gales 
wafted  Cartier  so  swiftly  on  his  course,  that  in  twenty  days  he 
descried  the  western  extremity  of  Newfoundland.  He  arrived 
too  soon,  and  he  was  compelled  to  wait  awhile  for  the  melting  of 
the  ice  which  stopped  his  way  to  the  north.  After  some  delay, 
he  sailed  northward,  entered  the  Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  and 
touched  at  manj^  points  on  the  extensive  coast  of  the  Gulf  of 
St.  Lawrence.  On  the  shores  of  bleak  and  sterile  Labrador  he 
placed  a  cross,  and  at  a  more  inviting  spot  on  the  coast  of  the 
Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  he  erected  a  very  lofty  one,  to  which  was 
attached  a  shield,  bearing  the  arms  of  the  King  of  France,  with 
the  inscription,  Vivele  Hoi  de  France,  He  continued  his  course 
nntil  he  was  near  enough  to  the  great  river  to  see  land  on  both 
sides ;  3^et,  as  the  summer  was  drawing  to  a  close,  he  turned 
back  without  suspecting  the  existence  of  the  river.  This  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at,  for  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence  is  one 
hundred  miles  wide  and  after  ascending  two  hundred  miles,  it 
is  still  so  broad  that  an  explorer  might  well  suppose  he  was 
navigating  a  strait  or  a  gulf. 

On  his  voyage  home  the  same  good   fortune  attended  him. 
A  pleasant  sail  of  thirty  days  brought  him  to  St.  Malo,  to  the 


JAQUES     CARTIER.  371 

Errciit  wonder  and  deliirlit  of  his  townsmen  and  all  France.  Tho 
remarkable  pleasantness  of  this  summer  voyaging,  together  with 
tho  narratives  of  the  adventurers  respecting  the  strange  scenes 
they  had  witnessed,  prompted  a  new  expedition. 

In  the  following  spring,  three  ships  lay  in  the  harbor  of  St. 
Malo,  ready  for  a  voyage  of  discovery.  In  those  simple  old 
days  no  man  was  audacious  enough  to  venture  out  upon  the 
broad  ocean  without  first  going  to  church  and  commending  his 
soul  and  his  enterprise  to  God ;  and  the  man  who,  on  his  return 
home,  neglected  to  repair  instantly  to  church  to  offer  thanks, 
was  regarded  as  a  graceless  wretch.  This  custom  prevailed  as 
late  as  a  hundred  years  ago  in  almost  all  countries,  and  still 
prevails  in  some  Catholic  nations.  So,  brave  Captain  Cartier 
and  his  companions  went  in  solemn  procession  to  the  Cathedral 
of  St.  Malo,  where  the  bishop  said  mass,  and  gave  them  his 
parting  benediction. 

This  voyage  was  no  pleasant  summer  cruise.  To  avoid  the 
ice,  Cartier  sailed  as  late  as  May  19 ;  but  storms  of  unusual 
violence  for  the  season  soon  separated  the  three  ships,  and  they 
came  to  the  rendezvous  in  the  Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  one  after  the 
other,  after  buffeting  the  billows  for  seven  weeks.  This  was  a 
trifle,  however,  to  what  was  in  store  for  them.  Cartier  entered 
the  broad  St.  Lawrence,  sailed  by  the  rugged  Saguenay  River, 
passed  the  lofty  projection  upon  which  now  glitter  the  tin- 
covered  spires  of  Quebec,  and,  leaving  his  ships,  pushed  his 
way  in  a  small  boat,  with  three  companions,  until  the  mountain 
on  the  island  named  by  him  Mont-real  came  in  sight.  He 
climbed  the  mountain,  and,  as  he  looked  out  upon  the  majestic 
stream  and  the  beautiful  country,  he  predicted  that  this  island 
"would  one  day  be  the  site  of  a  great  city.  He  conversed  much 
with  the  Indians,  w^ho  were  gentle  and  hospitable,  and  from 
them  he  obtained  some  rude  notions  of  the  great  lakes  beyond. 

It  was  October  3d  when  he  reached  Montreal,  and  the  lateness 
of  the  season  forbade  his  further  exploration.  After  three  days' 
stay,  therefore,  he  descended  the  river  again,  and  hastened  to  a 
harbor  near  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  where  he  had  de- 
termined to  winter.  Far  better  had  it  been  if  he  had  returned 
then  to  France.      All  unused  to  such  aa  extremity  of  cold,  and 


372  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGEAPHY. 

unprovided  with  vegetables,  the  scurvy  soon  broke  out  among 
them,  and  laid  low  nearly  the  whole  company  of  a  hundred  and 
thirty-five  men.  By  raid-winter,  twenty-five  had  died,  and  of 
the  rest,  scarcely  one  was  free  from  the  disease,  while  fifty  were 
disabled  by  it.  In  these  distressing  circumstances,  shut  in  by 
leagues  of  impenetrable  ice,  the  simple  and  devout  Cartier 
appointed  a  day  of  humiliation  and  prayer,  and  vowed  that  if 
it  should  please  God  to  permit  him  to  return  to  his  native  laud, 
he  would  make  a  pilgrimage  to  a  famous  shrine  consecrated  to 
the  Holy  Virgin.  Eelief  was  speedily  aflbrded  them.  Cartier 
learned  that  the  Indians,  who  were  also  suffering  from  the  scur- 
vy, were  cured  by  drinking  the  sap  of  a  tree,  supposed  to  be  a 
kind  of  spruce.  This  medicine  was  so  immediately  beneficial, 
that  the  cure  seemed  miraculous,  and  no  Catholic  of  them  all 
doubted  that  the  miracle  was  wrought  in  answer  to  their  prayers 
and  in  recompense  of  their  vows.  The  whole  company  were 
soon  restored  to  health. 

When  the  spring  came,  their  numbers  were  so  much  reduced, 
that  Cartier  abandoned  the  smallest  of  his  ships,  and  returned 
to  France  in  the  two  others.  That  abandoned  vessel  was  actu- 
ally discovered,  imbedded  in  the  mud,  in  1848,  three  hundred 
and  twelve  years  after. 

The  terrible  sufferings  experienced  on  this  voyage  deterred 
Frenchmen  from  renewing  their  explorations  for  four  years ; 
but  at  the  expiration  of  that  period  a  fleet  of  five  vessels  was 
fitted  out,  which  Cartier  accompanied.  This  was  an  attempt  to 
plant  a  colony  in  the  newly  discovered  regions ;  but  a  divided 
command  caused  the  speedy  failure  of  the  enterprise,  and  Car- 
tier  returned  to  St.  Malo. 

As  nothing  is  known  of  this  valiant  mariner's  early  life,  so 
nothing  is  known  of  its  close.  He  appears  in  history  at  the 
age  of  forty  in  command  of  an  expedition  of  discovery,  and,  at 
fifty  disappears  and  is  seen  no  more.  There  is  a  tradition, 
however,  that  he  lived  at  St.  Malo  after  retiring  from  the  sea, 
and  died  there  at  a  very  advanced  age.  He  published  an  ac- 
count of  his  voyages,  which  abounds  in  marvellous  tales  of  what 
he  had  seen,  and  tales  still  more  marvellous  of  what  he  had 


JAQUES    CARTIER.  373 

heard  and  fancied.  lie  speaks  of  beasts  with  only  two  legs, 
one  of  which  he  had  actually  seen  and  chased.  ITc  says,  also, 
that  in  America  there  arc  many  strange  monsters,  resembling 
men,  some  of  which  live  without  eating. 


B74      PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY 


SAMUEL   DE    CHAMPLAIN. 


Perhaps  the  reader  would  like  to  know  a  little  of  the  bravo 
and  noble  Frenchman  who  gave  his  name  to  our  Lake  Cham- 
plain.  The  Indian  name  of  that  lake  was  Sarauac ;  but,  since 
the  year  1609,  when  it  was  first  beheld  by  white  men,  it  has 
borne  the  name  of  its  discoverer. 

Samuel  de  Champlain  was  born  in  France,  on  the  shores  of 
the  Bay  of  Biscay,  in  1567,  over  three  hundred  years  ago. 
Though  of  noble  family,  he  was  poor;  and,  entering  the  royal 
navy,  he  rose  to  the  rank  of  captain.  During  one  of  the  wars 
of  Henry  IV.,  he  left  the  sea  and  fought  gallantly  for  the  king 
on  land ;  and  when  the  war  was  over,  the  king,  who  loved  a 
man  of  merit,  granted  him  a  small  pension  in  order  to  retain 
him  near  his  person.  But  being  far  too  much  of  a  man  to  be 
willing  to  waste  his  life  in  dangling  about  a  court,  fond  of  ad- 
venture, eager  to  increase  his  knowledge,  and  desirous  to  do 
something  for  the  glory  of  France  and  the  spread  of  the 
Catholic  religion,  he  obtained  permission  of  the  king  to  make  a 
voyage  to  the  New  World.  He  was  then  thirty-three  years  of 
age.  America  had  been  discovered  one  hundred  and  eight 
years ;  but  in  all  that  part  of  the  continent  now  occupied  by  the 
United  States  and  Canada  there  was  no  white  settlement, 
except  in  Florida.  John  Smith  had  not  yet  seen  Virginia ; 
Hendrick  Hudson  had  not  sailed  up  the  river  that  bears  his 
name  ;  the  Puritans  had  not  landed  upon  Plymouth  Kock  ;  and, 
though  the  St.  Lawrence  had  been  discovered,  no  white  man 
yet  lived  upon  its  shores. 

Obtaining  command  of  one  of  the  ships  of  a  Spanish  fleet,  ho 
sailed  to  the  West  Indies,  and  remained  two  years  and  a  half  in 
Spanish  America,  making  sketches  and  surveys,  and  keeping  a 


SAMUEL    DE     CIIAMPLAIN.  375 

diary,  which  is  preserved  to  this  day  in  France.  Besides  visit- 
ing the  principal  "West  India  ports,  he  made  his  way  to  the  city 
of  Mexico,  and,  on  his  return,  visited  Panama,  where  he  con- 
ceived the  project  of  cutting  a  canal  across  the  Isthmus  of 
Daricn.  Two  hundred  and  sixty-three  years  have  passed  since 
Cbamphiin  suggested  the  Daricn  Canal,  and  it  is  onl}^  within 
these  few  years  that  there  has  been  a  prospect  of  the  work 
being  attempted.  I  am  informed  that  before  many  years  have 
rolled  away,  plans  will  be  submitted  to  the  public  for  the 
execution  of  Captain  de  Champlain's  scheme. 

Return inii:  to  the  French  court  to  relate  his  adventures  to  the 
king,  he  found  De  Chastes,  a  veteran  soldier,  full  of  a  project 
to  plant  the  cross  and  the  flag  of  his  country  upon  the  shores  of 
the  majestic  St.  Lawrence,  discovered  by  Cartier  seventy  years 
before.  Champlain  joined  the  enterprise.  In  1603,  in  two 
small  vessels,  one  of  twelve  tons  and  the  other  of  fifteen  (mere 
sail-boats) ,  the  adventurers  sailed ;  designing  only  to  make  a 
preliminary  survey  of  the  country.  The  little  craft,  having 
crossed  the  Atlantic  in  safety,  entered  the  broad  St.  Lawrence, 
sailed  past  tlie  lofty  promontory  on  which  Quebec  now  stands, 
and  reached  the  island  which  now  contains  the  city  of  jMoutreal, 
then  an  uninhabited  wilderness.  There  they  anchored,  and 
Champlain,  with  a  small  party  of  Indians,  continued  the  ascent 
of  the  river  in  one  of  the  ship's  boats.  Soon  he  came  to  the 
rapids  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  which  he  vainly  attempted  to 
ascend ;  and  so  returned  to  the  ships.  The  Indians  drew  for 
him  rude  maps  of  the  lakes,  lauds,  and  rivers  beyond  the 
rapids,  which  inflamed  his  curiosity ;  but,  as  the  object  of  the 
expedition  was  accomplished,  he  and  his  comrades  descended 
the  river  and  returned  to  France. 

Next  year,  1604,  early  in  the  spring,  with  two  larger  ships, 
filled  with  a  motley  crew  of  gentlemen,  merchants,  Huguenot 
ministers.  Catholic  priests,  thieves,  and  ruffians,  Champlain 
sailed  again  for  Canada,  expecting  now  to  make  a  permanent 
settlement.  Avoiding  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  adventurers 
selected  for  the  sight  of  their  establishment  an  island  at  the 
mouth  of  a  river  emptying  into  Passamaquodd}^  Bay.  The 
ships  returned  to  France,  leaving  on  this  rocky  island  seventy- 


376  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

nine  men,  who  experienced  the  horrors  of  a  Canadian  winter. 
Drifting  ice  sometimes  cut  them  off  from  the  main  land,  whence 
they  drew  their  supplies  of  wood  and  water.  Their  wine  froze 
solid  in  its  barrels,  and  was  served  out  to  the  men  by  the 
pound.  Thirty-five  of  the  seventy-nine  men  died  of  scurvy 
before  the  spring,  and  many  more,  bloated  and  covered  with 
sores,  were  reduced  to  the  last  extremity.  Amid  the  gloom 
and  terror  of  the  time,  Champlain  preserved  his  courage  and 
serenity,  and  did  all  that  was  possible  to  save  his  companions 
from  despair.  In  the  spring,  a  vessel  from  France  brought 
them  good  cheer  and  restoration;  when  Champlain,  in  a  vessel 
of  fifteen  tons,  sailed  southward  alons^  the  New  Enoflaud  coast 
>u  quest  of  a  more  genial  clime,  and  a  less  inhospitable  shore. 
They  went  as  far  as  Cape  Cod ;  but,  finding  no  place  that  satis- 
fied them,  and  their  provisions  failing,  they  returned  to  the 
settlement,  and  Champlain  volunteered  to  brave  another  winter 
on  that  bleak  and  icy  coast.  That  winter,  however,  proved 
remarkably  mild,  and  Champlain  made  such  excellent  provision 
for  the  season,  that  only  four  men  died  of  the  scurvy.  In- 
trigues at  the  French  court  broke  up  the  colony  the  next  year, 
and  Captain  de  Champlain  returned  again  to  his  native  land. 

Three  years  passed,  —  Champlain  always  pining  for  the  wil- 
derness, the  broad  rivers,  the  strange  men,  and  the  transparent 
air  of  the  Western  World.  He  was  ambitious,  too,  of  being  an 
instrument  in  bringing  the  Indians  to  a  knowledge  of  Christi- 
anity, for  he  was  one  of  those  who  think  (to  use  his  own 
language)  that  the  salvation  of  one  soul  is  of  more  importance 
than  the  conquest  of  an  empire.  A  new  company  was  formed 
under  his  auspices,  and,  in  1608,  he  set  sail  again  for  America, 
intending  to  plant  a  permanent  colony  on  the  banks  of  the  St. 
Lawrence.  He  founded  the  city  of  Quebec.  The  first  winter 
there  was  terrible ;  but  when,  at  length,  the  tardy  spring  had 
opened  the  river,  the  undaunted  Champlain,  leaving  most  of  his 
companions  to  trafiSc  in  furs,  gathered  a  party  of  Indians,  and 
went  forth  upon  a  journey  of  exploration. 

In  a  small  sloop,  accompanied  by  a  fleet  of  canoes,  he  once 
more  ascended  the  St.  Lawrence,  again  passed  by  the  lofty 
mountain  behind  what  is  now  Montreal ;  and  was  again  brought 


SAMUEL    DE     CIIAMPLAIN.  377 

to  a  stand  by  the  rapids.  lie  sent  back  bis  sloop  to  Quebec 
with  most  of  his  white  followers;  and  the  Indians  carried  their 
light  canoes  around  the  rapids  to  the  tranquil  Sorel,  where  he 
embarked  with  them  for  further  exploration.  Two  white  men 
alone  of  all  his  party  had  volunteered  to  accompany  him.  His 
Indians  were  sixty  in  number,  and  the  whole  company  filled 
twenty-four  canoes.  They  advanced  cautiously,  for  they  were 
nearing  the  domain  of  the  terrible  Iroquois,  the  hereditary  foes 
of  the  Indians  nnder  the  command  of  Champlain.  A  few  of 
the  canoes  kept  far  ahead  of  the  main  bod}^  and  the  woods  o-n 
each  side  of  the  river  were  scoured  by  warriors  and  hunters. 
At  night  the  canoes  were  drawn  up  along  the  bank,  and  the 
whole  party  slept. 

The  river  widened  as  they  went  on,  until,  on  a  brilliant  day 
in  June,  1609,  they  entered  the  lake  wdiich  bears  to  this  day 
the  name  of  Champlain.  They  advanced  up  the  lake  as  far  as 
Crow^n  Point,  where  their  progress  was  stopped  by  a  powerful 
war-party  of  Iroquois,  outnumbering  them  four  to  one. 
Champlain  landed  his  men.  There  were  three  Frenchmen, 
armed  with  muskets,  and  sixty  Indians  with  boys  and  arrows, 
against  more  than  two  hundred  Iroquois.  The  Iroquois  ad- 
vanced gallantly  to  the  fight,  and  in  good  order,  while  Cham- 
plain's  Indians  stood  trembling  at  the  disparity  of  numbers.  At 
the  proper  moment,  they  opened  their  ranks,  and  Champlain, 
bearing  his  arquebuse,  and  glittering  in  steel  armor,  stood  re- 
vealed to  the  bewildered  foe.  He  took  deliberate  aim  and 
fired.  One  chief  fell  dead,  and  another  wounded.  Instantly 
his  Indians  raised  a  terrific  yell  and  sent  a  shower  of  arrows 
into  the  faltering  Iroquois.  The  enemy  returned  the  fire  for  a 
moment,  but  when  two  more  shots  from  the  arquebuses  had 
been  fired,  a  panic  seized  them,  and  they  fled,  leaving  behind 
them  dead,  wounded,  camp,  weapons,  everything. 

Champlain's  Indians  were  not  inclined  to  advance  further ; 
they  returned  to  their  homes,  and  he,  with  his  two  Frenchmen, 
made  their  way  back  to  Quebec.  Thus  it  was  that  Lake 
Champlain,  two  hundred  and  fifty-six  years  ago,  was  discovered 
and  baptized  in  blood. 

No  one  will  ever  be  able  to  compute  the  sum  of  suffering 


378  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY. 

and  toil  which  it  cost  to  conquer  the  Western  Continent  from 
wild  men  and  wild  nature.  It  is  now  three  hundred  and 
seventy-six  ^^ears  since  Columbus  first  landed  upon  one  of  its 
outlying  islands,  and  still  the  work  is  much  less  than  half 
done.  What  lives  have  been  lost !  What  lives  have  been 
spent!  What  anguish  has  been  endured!  What  labors  have 
been  performed  ! 

For  twenty-six  years  longer  Champlain  continued  to  preside 
over  the  interests  of  the  colony  he  had  planted.  Sometimes  we 
see  him  at  the  French  court,  pleading  for  it  before  the  king  or 
his  ministers ;  and  sometimes  deep  in  the  heart  of  the  wilder- 
ness, fighting  for  it  with  savage  foes.  While  other  men  were 
only  concerned  to  gather  a  rich  store  of  furs,  he  thought  of 
nothing  but  the  lasting  welfare  of  the  settlement,  the  glory  of 
France,  and  the  salvation  of  the  Indians.  He  was  a  brave, 
pure,  and  chivalric  gentleman.  Many  years  after  his  death, 
the  Indians  used  to  relate,  with  w^onder  and  admiration,  that 
when  they  entertained  him  in  their  villages,  and  ofiered  all  they 
had  for  his  use,  he  was  irreproachable  toward  their  women. 
One  must  be  acquainted  both  with  the  French  of  that  day  and 
with  the  customs  of  the  Indians,  to  appreciate  all  the  signifi- 
cance of  such  a  fact. 

Champlain  died  at  Quebec,  on  Christmas  day,  1G35,  aged 
sixty-eight  years.  His  last  thoughts  were  for  his  colony,  which 
was  still  feeble,  and  never  more  needed  his  care  than  when  he 
was  about  to  leave  it  forever.  The  little  company  of  settlers, 
soldiers,  and  priests  sadly  followed  his  remains  to  their 
church,  where  one  of  them  pronounced  a  funeral  oration,  and 
where  they  afterwards  built  a  monument  to  his  memory. 


CAPTAIN     COOK.  370 


CAPTAIN    COOK. 


It  is  of  not  much  consequence  in  what  station  of  life  an  abia 
man  is  born.  If  he  has  it  in  him  to  rise,  rise  he  will,  and  noth- 
ing can  keep  him  clown. 

The  father  of  James  Cook,  the  famous  navigator,  was  a  farm- 
laborer  in  Yorkshire,  England,  who  had  a  family  of  nine  chil- 
dren and  earned  about  fifteen  shillings  a  week.  The  employer 
of  the  father  sent  the  son  to  school  lono^  enouirh  for  him  to  learn 
to  read  and  write ;  and  this  was  all  the  instruction  the  boy  ever 
received.  At  thirteen  (which  was  in  the  year  1741)  he  was 
apprenticed  to  a  dealer  in  dry  goods  near  one  of  the  seaport 
towns  of  Yorkshire,  and  passed  his  time  in  carrying  home  par- 
cels and  waiting  upon  customers.  He  did  not  like  this  occu- 
pation ;  and  the  sea,  the  open  sea,  was  ever  before  his  eyes, 
alluring  him  to  a  life  of  adventure.  His  father  dying,  he  per- 
suaded his  master  to  give  up  his  indentures,  and  restore  him  to 
liberty.  He  hastened  to  the  port,  and  binding  himself  appren- 
tice to  the  owner  of  a  coal  vessel,  he  went  on  board  in  the 
capacity  of  cabin-boy.  Certainly,  if  a  dandy  naval  officer  had 
cast  his  eyes  upon  this  coal-blackened  cabin-boy,  and  had  been 
told  that  that  boy  would  die  a  post-captain  in  the  royal  navy  of 
Great  Britain,  he  would  have  laughed  the  prediction  to  scorn. 

Nevertheless,  it  came  to  pass.  The  cabin-boy  was  rapidly 
advanced  until  he  was  first  mate  of  a  vessel,  and  he  acquired 
such  a  knowledge  of  the  construction  and  rigging  of  a  ship  that 
he  was  frequently  entrusted  by  his  master  with  the  building  of 
his  coal  vessels.  Every  one  connected  with  this  youth  felt  that 
he  was  to  be  trusted,  that  he  understood  his  businesr^,  that  his 
judgment  was  sound,  his  hand  expert,  and  his  will  that  of  a 
master.     He  lived  such  a  life  as  this  —  commanding  and  build- 


380  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGUAPHY. 

ing  coal  ships  —  until  he  was  twenty -seven  years  of  age,  when 
a  second  time  he  struck  into  a  new  career. 

In  1755  that  long  war  among  the  powers  of  Europe  and  the 
races  in  America  broke  out,  which  is  now  known  as  the  Seven 
Years'  War.  James  Cook,  expecting  to  be  forced  into  the 
king's  service  by  the  press-gang,  thought  it  best  to  enlist  in  the 
navy  as  a  sailor.  His  merit  as  a  seaman  was  instantly  recog- 
nized, and  he  was  promoted  from  one  rank  to  another,  until  at 
length  his  captain  procured  for  him  a  commission  as  master,  — 
a  rank  just  below  that  of  lieutenant.  In  the  summer  of  1759 
he  was  master  of  a  ship  which  belonged  to  the  fleet  that  was 
supporting  General  Wolfe  in  his  designs  against  Quebec ;  and  it 
was  he  who  was  entrusted  with  the  important  duty  of  sounding 
the  river,  drawing  charts  of  the  locality,  and  placing  beacons  for 
the  guidance  of  the  disembarking  troops.  So  well  did  he  do  his 
work,  though  he  had  never  learned  drawing,  that  his  maps  of 
that  region  continued  to  be  used  as  late  as  1830.  He  was  pres- 
ent at  the  disembarkation,  and  rendered  invaluable  assistance  to 
the  young  hero  who  was  about  to  scale  the  heights  of  Quebec 
and  lay  down  his  life  on  the  summit. 

During  the  long  winter  following  these  operations,  being  still 
retained  in  Canada,  he  set  about  preparing  himself  for  a  higher 
rank  in  the  navj^  by  studying  geometry  and  other  branches  of 
mathematics  connected  with  navigation.  He  served  eight  years 
in  America,  during  which  he  was  frequently  employed  in  ex- 
ploring coasts  and  sounding  channels,  drawing  charts  and  plans, 
and  in  making  and  recording  astronomical  observations.  He 
sent  some  papers  of  a  scientific  nature  to  the  Royal  Society,  in 
London,  which  were  much  admired,  and  he  was  known  in  the 
navy  as  an  excellent  astronomer  and  geographer,  as  well  as  a 
most  efficient  officer. 

During  one  of  his  visits  to  England  he  married  a  girl  fifteen 
years  of  age,  whom  he  had  held  at  the  baptismal  font  in  her 
infancy,  and  whom  he  had  then  said  he  would  marry.  He  was 
nineteen  when  he  made  this  vow,  and  thirty-four  when  he  ful- 
filled it.  He  was  a  sailor  in  a  coal  ship  when  he  held  the  baby 
in  his  arms  at  the  altar ;  he  was  a  rising  naval  officer  when,  to 
the  same  altar,  he  led  the  blooming  bride. 


CAPTAIN    COOK.  381 

In  1768,  when  James  Cook  was  forty  years  old,  the  Eoyal 
Society  prev^ailecl  upon  the  government  to  fit  out  an  expedition 
to  make  certain  higlily  important  astronomical  observations  in 
the  Pacilic  Ocean.  The  Secretary  of  the  Admiralty,  whose 
office  had  made  him  acquainted  with  Cook's  talent  and  peculiar 
knowledge,  recommended  him  for  the  command  of  the  expedi- 
tion. The  king  promoted  him  to  a  lieutenancy,  and,  in  July, 
1768,  the  ship  Endeavor,  three  hundred  and  sixty  tons.  Lieu- 
tenant Cook  commanding,  dropped  down  the  Thames,  bound 
for  the  Pacific,  having  on  board  Sir  Joseph  Banks  and  many 
other  men  of  note  in  the  world  of  science.  In  nine  months  and 
ten  days  after  leaving  London  he  cast  anchor  in  the  harbor  of 
Otaheite,  the  largest  of  the  Society  Islands,  where  the  astro- 
nomical observations  were  to  be  made. 

There  he  remained  three  months.  The  observations  were 
successfully  recorded.  In  their  intercourse  with  the  natives, 
the  crew  of  the  Endeavor  did  not  always  obey  the  humane 
orders  of  their  commander,  and  there  was  much  stealing  and 
violence  committed  on  both  sides.  The  Indians,  nevertheless, 
professed  the  utmost  regard  and  veneration  for  "Captain  Tooty," 
who,  in  his  turn,  pronounced  them  to  be  the  most  audacious 
and  persevering  thieves  in  the  world.  Desiring  to  give  the 
savages  an  idea  of  the  Christian  religion,  he  invited  them  to  at- 
tend service  on  a  Sunday  morning.  A  cloud  of  naked  Indians, 
men,  women,  and  children,  gathered  about  the  group  of  Eng- 
lishmen, the  chaplain  in  the  centre.  They  behaved  with  the 
most  perfect  decorum.  "When  the  white  men  knelt,  or  stood,  or 
sat,  the  natives  followed  their  example,  keeping  strict  silence 
till  the  service  "was  over,  and  then  went  away  without  asking  a 
question,  or  manifesting  the  least  curiosity  to  know  what  it  all 
meant.  In  the  afternoon  they  returned  the  compliment  by  in- 
viting the  strangers  to  witness  their  religious  ceremonies,  which 
were  of  so  very  primitive  a  character  as  to  be  unfit  for  descrip- 
tion here. 

The  charms  of  this  island  life  induced  two  of  the  marines  to 
desert  and  attach  themselves  to  two  of  the  dusky  beauties.  Cap- 
tain Cook  hit  upon  a  very  simple  expedient  to  get  them  back : 
he  took  the  king  and  royal  fomily  prisoners,  and  gave  notice 


382  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP     BIOGKAPHY. 

that  he  should  keep  them  in  confinemeut  until  the  sailors  were 
brought  to  him.  In  a  very  short  time  the  men  were  produced. 
The  hostages  were  released,  and  the  two  amorous  adventurers 
expiated  their  offence  under  the  cat-o'-nine  tails. 

From  Otaheite  the  Endeavor  sailed  away  in  search  of  the 
great  island,  then  called  New  Holland,  now  named  Australia, 
which  had  been  discovered  some  years  before,  but  had  never 
been  explored  or  circumnavigated.  Captain  Cook  spent  six 
months  upon  the  coasts  of  that  great  continent,  and  made  many 
important  discoveries.  It  was  he  who  discovered  that  it  was 
divided  into  two  portions  by  a  strait ;  and  he  sailed  through  the 
strait.  In  one  of  the  baj^s  in  which  he  anchored,  the  botanists 
of  his  ship  found  so  many  new  plants  and  flowers,  that  he  named 
it  Botany  Bay.  The  native  inhabitants  of  Australia  were  so 
mitamably  savage  as  to  prevent  his  extending  his  observations 
into  the  interior ;  and  so  addicted  were  they  to  eating  human 
flesh  that  he  long  supposed  they  did  so  because  they  preferred 
it  as  food,  and  went  to  war  for  the  purpose  of  getting  a  supply 
of  sustenance.  He  discovered  afterwards  that  the  eatins^  of  the 
flesh  of  an  enemy  was  a  rite  of  their  religion,  and  was  supposed 
to  guard  them  from  the  vengeance  of  his  tribe.  It  was  while 
sailinsr  about  Australia  that  the  Endeavor  had  a  most  strano^e 
and  narrow  escape  from  destruction.  She  struck  a  rock  one 
day  with  great  force,  but  immediately  floated  off;  and,  although 
she  leaked  badly,  the  crew  managed  to  keep  her  afloat  until  they 
reached  a  harbor.  What  was  their  astonishment,  on  docking 
the  ship,  to  And  a  large  rock  stuck  in  the  cavity,  which  alone 
had  kept  her  from  going  down  ! 

At  the  Dutch  settlement  of  Batavia,  where  he  repaired  his 
ship,  the  crew  suffered  fearfully  from  the  fever  caused  by  the 
malaria  of  the  country.  Death  was  so  common  there,  he  relates, 
that  if  a  man  announced  to  another  the  death  of  an  acquaintance, 
the  remark  which  the  news  usually  called  forth,  was,  "Good,  he 
owed  me  nothing  ;  "  or,  "  Is  he?  then  I  must  go  and  collect  my 
account  of  his  heirs."  The  ship  was  a  mere  hospital  for  many 
weeks,  and  a  large  number  of  the  crew  died.  After  three  years 
of  most  adventurous  and  skilful  voyaging,  the  Endeavor  cast 


CAPTAIN    COOK.  383 

anchor  in  an  English  port,  having  lost  one-half  her  company, 
and  being  herself  quite  worn  out. 

The  return  of  Captain  Cook  created  a  wonderful  excitement 
in  England.  The  king  at  once  promoted  him  to  the  rank  of 
commander ;  the  newspapers  were  filled  with  the  marvels  of 
those  distant  regions,  and  in  society  nothing  was  spoken  of  but 
Captain  Cook  and  his  voyage.  When  the  narrative  of  his  ad- 
ventures appeared,  it  was  the  great  book  of  the  season.  Dr. 
Franklin,  who  resided  in  London  then  as  the  agent  of  some  of 
the  colonies,  was  exceedingly  interested  in  these  discoveries, 
and  joined  some  benevolent  persons  in  a  scheme  to  send  a  ship 
to  the  Pacific  laden  with  domestic  animals  and  seeds,  some  of 
which  were  to  be  left  on  each  large  island  for  propagation. 

At  this  time  there  was  a  general  belief  in  the  existence  of  a 
great  continent  far  to  the  south  of  Asia  and  America.  Cook's 
second  vovao'c  was  to  ascertain  whether  there  was  such  a  conti- 
nent.  After  two  years  of  exploration,  he  returned  to  England 
with  the  certainty  that  no  such  continent  existed ;  and  he  was 
rewarded  for  this  intelligence  by  being  raised  to  the  rank  of 
post-captain,  to  which  a  pension  was  added. 

While  he  was  absent  on  this  voyage  the  government  had  been 
projecting  an  expedition  to  search  for  a  passage  from  the  Atlan- 
tic to  the  Pacific,  around  the  northern  part  of  the  American  con- 
tinent. Captain  Cook,  having  volunteered  his  services,  sailed 
in  command  of  two  ships,  and  never  again  saw  his  native  land. 
While  wintering  at  the  Sandwich  Islands  (which  he  discovered), 
one  of  the  ship's  boats  was  stolen,  and  to  recover  it  he  resorted 
to  his  usual  expedient  of  seizing  the  king  and  roj-al  flimily,  and 
holding  them  until  the  stolen  property  was  restored.  In  carry- 
ing out  this  measure  he  encountered  unexpected  resistance,  and 
was  obliged  to  order  a  retreat  to  the  boats.  Being  himself 
the  last  to  retire,  he  received  a  blow  which  prostrated  him,  and 
the  savages  running  up  soon  overpowered  and  despatched  him. 
This  event  occurred  in  February,  1779,  in  the  fifty-second  year 
of  his  a<re.  In  a  similar  manner  Masfcllan  lost  his  life  in  those 
seas  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  before. 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  Captain  Cook  to  retire  from  active 
life  if  he  had  returned  to  England.    He  said  one  day  to  his  offi- 


384  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

cers  :  "  The  sjDring  of  my  life  was  tempestuous,  and  its  summer 
has  been  painful ;  but  I  have  laid  up  at  home  a  fund  of  joy  and 
hajDpiness  for  my  autumn." 

Captain  Cook  was  an  able  commander,  —  very  strict,  and 
sometimes  severe,  in  enforcing  discipline,  but  constantly  atten- 
tive to  the  health,  comfort,  and  honor  of  those  mider  his  com- 
mand. A  finer  piece  of  manhood  has  seldom  trodden  a  quarter- 
deck. 


ADMIRAL    SIR   WILLIAM    PARRT.  OSj 


ADMIRAL   SIR   WILLIAM    PARRY. 


In  order  to  be  very  much  distinguished  in  this  busy  world,  it 
is  necessary  to  do  something  that  nobody  else  ever  did.  Ad- 
miral Parry  could  boast  that  he  had  been  nearer  the  North  Pole 
than  any  other  human  being.  It  is  doubtful  if  a  polar  bear 
ever  went  nearer,  or  even  a  seal.  Four  hundred  and  ninety- 
five  miles  more  would  have  brought  him  to  the  pole  itself,  and 
he  would  have  lived  forever  in  history  as  the  first  man  who  ever 
performed  that  feat.  Let  us  see  how  he  came  to  go  to  that  un- 
comfortable region,  and  why,  having  gone  so  far,  he  did  not  go 
all  the  way. 

There  are  still  living  in  Connecticut  a  few  old  people  who  re- 
member a  certain  day  in  the  spring  of  1814,  when  half  a  dozen 
British  man-of-war's  boats,  filled  with  armed  men,  suddenly 
appeared  at  the  mouth  of  the  Connecticut  river,  and  rowed 
twenty  miles  up  it,  to  a  place  where  a  whole  fleet  of  American 
privateers  and  blockade-runners  had  taken  refuge.  Twenty- 
seven  of  these  vessels,  all  unprepared  for  resistance,  were  cap- 
tured and  burnt.  The  British  boats  then  descended  the  river 
with  equal  celerity,  and  got  off  with  only  a  loss  of  two  men. 
Before  the  alarm  had  been  spread  widely  enough  to  attract  the 
local  militia  to  the  river's  banks,  the  enemy  were  out  of  the 
river  and  safe  on  board  the  blockading  ship.  The  officer  who 
commanded  one  of  the  smartest  boats  of  this  dashing  expe- 
dition was  no  other  than  Lieutenant  William  Edward  Parry, 
afterwards  so  famous  as  an  arctic  navigator. 

A  few  months  later  another  officer,  destined  to  mournful 
celebrity  as  a  northern  voyager,  fought  bravely  in  the  gun-boat 
battle  that  preceded  the  landing  of  British  troops  below  Xew 
Orleans.     It  ^s  not  generally  known  that  Sir  John  Franklin 

26 


386  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHT. 

commanded  one  of  tlie  English  boats  in  that  battle,  and  was 
badly  wounded.  He  captured  one  of  the  American  gunboats, 
and  was  promoted  for  his  gallantry. 

Lieutenant  Parry,  born  in  1796,  was  the  son  of  an  eminent 
physician  of  Bath,  several  of  whose  works  upon  medicine  and 
kindred  subjects  are  still  known.  At  thirteen  he  entered  the 
British  navy  as  midshipman,  and,  during  the  long  wars  with 
Napoleon,  fought  and  studied  his  way  up,  until,  at  the  peace  of 
1815,  he  was  first  lieutenant  of  a  ship.  Compelled  then  to  re- 
tire upon  half  pay,  he  fretted  for  two  years  on  shore,  always 
longing  for  active  service.  In  1817,  in  a  letter  to  an  intimate 
friend,  he  happened  to  write  a  good  deal  about  an  expedition, 
then  much  talked  of,  for  exploring  the  river  Congo,  in  Africa, 
and  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  make  one  of  the  party.  Whea 
this  letter  was  finished,  but  before  it  was  put  into  the  post-office, 
his  eye  fell  upon  a  paragraph  in  the  newspapers,  stating  that 
the  government  were  about  to  send  vessels  in  quest  of  a  passage 
round  the  northern  coast  of  North  America,  which  would 
shorten  the  voyage  from  England  to  India  from  sixteen  thou- 
sand miles  to  about  seven  thousand.  Parry  reopened  his  letter, 
and,  mentioning  the  paragraph,  concluded  a  short  postscript  with 
these  words  :  — 

"Hot  or  cold  is  all  one  to  me,  — Africa  or  the  Pole." 

His  correspondent  showed  this  letter  to  a  friend,  who  was  the 
man  in  England  most  devoted  to  the  project  in  question,  — Mr. 
Barrow,  secretary  to  the  admiralty.  Within  a  week  from  that 
time.  Lieutenant  Parry  was  thrown  into  an  ecstasy  of  astonish- 
ment and  delight  by  receiving  the  appointment  to  command  one 
of  the  two  ships  preparing  for  the  enterprise,  the  other  being 
under  the  command  of  the  chief  of  the  expedition,  Captain 
Ross.  The  orders  were,  "To  explore  Baffin's  Bay,  and  ascer- 
tain the  probabilities  of  a  north-west  passage." 

This  expedition  was  a  ridiculous  failure.  The  two  ships 
sailed  in  April,  1818,  and  made  their  way,  without  much  diffi- 
culty, to  Baffin's  Bay,  which  they  entered,  and,  to  some  slight 
extent,  explored.  Soon,  however,  there  appeared  above  the 
horizon  what  Captain  Ross  insisted  was  a  range  of  mountains, 
barring  the  way  against  the  further  progress  of  the  ships.     Ho 


ADMIRAL    SIR    WILLIAM    PARRY.  387 

acconHngl}'  returned  to  England,  and  reported  those  impassable 
mountains  to  the  admiralty.  Lieutenant  Parry,  however,  told 
them,  and  told  the  people  of  England,  that  what  Captain  Ross 
took  for  a  range  of  mountains  was  only  a  deceptive  mirage, 
common  in  polar  regions.  The  admiralty  and  the  people  be- 
lieved him.  A  second  expedition  was  prepared,  of  which  Lieu- 
tenant Parry  was  placed  in  command. 

At  midsummer  in  1819,  Lieutenant  Parry,  with  his  two  ves- 
sels, the  Hecla  and  the  Griper,  had  the  pleasure  of  sailing  over 
those  imaginary  mountains  ;  and,  pushing  on,  he  discovered  and 
named  Barrows  Straits,  "Wellington  Channel,  and  IMelville 
Island.  He  was  then  about  half  way  through  the  "North-^West 
Passaije."    Twelve  hundred  miles  more  of  straic^ht  sailing  v.^ould 

O  CD  CD 

have  brouijht  him  throusjh  Behrinor  Straits,  and  out  into  the 
broad  Pacific.  But  no  ship  has  ever  sailed  those  twelve  hun- 
dred miles,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  ship  ever  will.  At  Mel- 
ville Island  Lieutenant  Parry's  two  ships  were  caught  by  the 
early  winter,  and,  for  ten  months,  remained  locked  in  the  ice, 
immovable.  Here  we  see  the  impossibility  of  sailing  round 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  The  distance  is  about  three 
thousand  miles,  and  the  summer  of  two  months  is  not  long 
enough  to  navigate  a  vessel  so  far  in  waters  obstructed  by  fields 
and  mountains  of  ice. 

Ten  months  in  the  ice  !  If  this  had  happened  a  hundred 
years  before,  two-thirds  of  the  crew  would  have  died  of  scurvy. 
But  Captain  Cook  and  other  navigators  had  discovered  that  the 
antidote  to  scurvy  is  vegetables  and  fruit;  and,  accordingly, 
these  ships  had  an  abundant  supply  of  onions,  potatoes,  lemon- 
juice,  lime-juice,  and  other  fruity  preparations,  which  kept  the 
men  in  excellent  health.  In  such  forlorn  circumstances  it  is 
exceedingly  diflicult  to  preserve  a  ship's  company  from  falling 
into  home-sickness  and  melancholy.  Lieutenant  Parr}^  showed 
great  talent  in  keeping  the  men  both  employed  and  amused. 
Hunting  parties  relieved  the  tedium  of  the  day,  and,  for  the 
evening,  a  theatre  was  prepared,  where  plays,  written  by  Parry 
himself,  were  performed.  Nothing  puts  such  animation  into  a 
winter  camp  of  soldiers,  or  an  ice-bound  ship's  crew,  as  a  scries 
of  dramatic  entertainments.     There  is  such  a  bustle  of  prepa- 


388  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGKAPHY. 

ration  —  so  many  can  take  part  in  the  performance  —  and  t"Ae 
performance  itself  is  so  pleasing,  that  all  hands  are  busy  and 
expectant.  Besides  the  theatre,  the  officers  published  a  weekly 
paper,  which  criticised  the  performances  and  recorded  the  events 
of  the  week. 

The  ice  broke  up  at  length,  and  Lieutenant  Parry  deemed  it 
best  to  return  to  England,  where  he  was  received  with  great 
enthusiasm.  His  discoveries  had  been  numerous,  and  were  con- 
sidered important,  and  it  was  agreed  on  all  hands  that  he  had 
displayed  unusual  talents  and  humanity  as  a  commander.  He 
made  two  other  voyages  in  search  of  a  north-west  passage,  and 
added  to  geography  the  names  of  many  lands  and  waters  hith- 
erto unknown.  He  also  established  the  fact  that,  whether  there 
is  a  north-west  passage  or  not,  it  can  never  be  of  any  practical 
use  in  the  navigation  of  the  globe.  These  services  procured  him 
just  promotion.  In  1826  he  was  a  post-captain,  and  held  a  lucra- 
tive place  in  the  admiralty. 

One  of  the  mysteries  of  science  is  the  magnetic  needle.  Cap- 
tain Parry,  in  all  his  northern  voyages,  watched  the  needle  of 
his  compass  closely,  and  recorded  its  every  variation,  —  curious 
to  know  if  nearness  to  the  pole  made  any  change  in  its  direc- 
tion or  in  the  amount  of  force  by  which  it  was  attracted.  In 
1826,  while  he  was  living  on  shore,  he  conceived  the  project  of 
carrying  a  compass  to  the  North  Pole  itself,  and  ascertaining  in 
what  direction  the  needle  would  point  there.  His  plan  was  to 
sail  a  small  shij)  as  far  north  as  possible,  and  then,  taking  with 
him  vehicles  that  could  be  used  both  as  sleds  and  as  boats,  push 
on  northward  to  the  Pole.  The  government  consenting,  he 
sailed  in  the  Hecla,in  March,  1827,  and  anchored  in  a  harbor  of 
Spitzbergen  early  in  June. 

This  harbor  is  just  six  hundred  and  sixty-seven  miles  from 
the  North  Pole.  On  the  21st  of  June,  Captain  Parry,  with  two 
sled-boats,  each  containing  two  officers  and  twelve  men,  left  the 
Hecla,  bound  for  the  Pole.  The  first  eighty  miles  was  pretty 
plain  sailing,  over  a  sea  little  obstructed  by  ice.  Next  they 
came  to  a  vast  expanse  of  loose,  broken  ice,  as  difficult  to  walk 
upon  as  to  sail  through.  To  avoid  the  danger  of  snow-blind- 
ness, they  travelled  only  by  night ;  and  such  were  the  difficulties 


ADMIRAL    SIR    WILLIAM    PARRY.  380 

of  traversing  this  broken  ice,  that  after  five  nights  of  intense 
exertion  they  found  that  they  only  advanced  ten  miles.  The 
ice  gradually  became  harder,  and  they  got  on  faster  ;  but,  at  the 
end  of  a  month,  they  were  little  more  than  a  hundred  miles 
from  the  ship. 

They  plodded  on.  At  last,  however,  a  /lifficulty  arose  which 
was  wholly  insurmountable  by  mortal  power.  Soon  after  they 
had  reached  tolerably  firm  ice,  over  which  they  could  draw  their 
sleds  with  comparative  ease,  a  strong,  steady,  north  wind  met 
them,  which  rendered  their  march  exceedingly  fatiguing.  This 
they  could  have  endured ;  but  imagine  their  dismay  wdicn  they 
discovered  that  this  wind  was  blowing  the  whole  mass  of  ice 
toward  the  south  faster  than  they  could  march  northward.  As 
long  as  possible  Captain  Parry  concealed  this  crushing  fact  from 
the  men ;  but  when,  at  the  end  of  laborious  and  distressing 
days,  he  found  that  they  were  actually  further  from  the  Pole 
than  in  the  morning,  he  was  compelled  to  disclose  the  secret, 
and  retrace  his  steps.  They  had  travelled,  since  leaving  the 
ship,  six  hundred  and  sixty-eight  miles,  and  had  only  made  one 
hundred  and  seventy-tw^o  miles.  They  reached  the  ship  sixty  • 
one  days  after  leaving  her,  and  soon  after  sailed  for  England. 

This  was  the  last  of  Captain  Parry's  arctic  voyages.  He  con 
tinned  to  serve  his  country  in  various  places  and  capacities, 
showing  himself  in  all  a  man  of  worth  and  ability.  He  died  in 
1855,  aged  sixty-five  years.  He  w-as  a  rear-admiral  at  the  time 
of  his  death,  and  had  been  knighted  several  years  before  by 
George  IV.  To  the  last  of  his  days  he  was  deeply  interested 
in  northern  explorations,  and  watched  with  intense  solicitude 
the  efforts  made  to  rescue  from  those  frozen  regions  his  old 
friend  and  comrade.  Sir  John  Franklin. 


390  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


SIR   JOHN   FRANKLIN. 


There  was  a  great  deal  of  talent  in  the  family  of  this  famous 
and  unfortunate  navigator.  His  father  inherited  a  large  farm, 
which  had  been  the  property  of  the  Franklins  for  several  gen- 
erations, but  which  came  to  him  so  heavily  mortgaged  as  to  be 
hardly  worth  owning.  Instead  of  letting  those  mortgages  hang 
about  his  neck  all  his  life  (the  usual  way  in  Europe) ,  keeping 
him  miserably  poor  and  anxious,  he  sold  his  patrimony,  and 
having  thus  acquired  a  capital,  he  went  into  business,  brought 
up  his  family  comfortably,  and  made  a  fortune.  In  other  words, 
he  behaved  like  an  American  instead  of  a  European. 

This  vigorous  Franklin  had  twelve  children,  four  of  whom 
were  sons.  The  eldest,  following  his  father's  business,  became 
an  eminent  merchant.  The  second  went  to  Oxford  University, 
studied  law,  and  died  a  judge  in  the  East  Indies.  The  third 
rose  to  the  rank  of  major  in  the  forces  of  the  East  India  Com- 
pany, and  became  a  proficient  in  the  languages  and  natural  his- 
tory of  India.  The  fourth  son  was  John,  whose  melancholy 
and  mysterious  fate  kept  the  whole  civilized  world  in  suspense 
for  many  years. 

He  was  born  in  1786.  His  father,  intending  him  for  the 
church,  sent  him  to  a  grammar  school  at  the  usual  age.  Almost 
from  infancy  the  boy  had  shown  a  fondness  for  sea  stories,  and 
had  often  said  that  he  meant  to  be  a  sailor.  This  was  regcarded 
as  a  boy's  ftmcy,  that  would  soon  pass  away ;  but  when  he  was 
but  eleven  years  old  a  circumstance  occurred  which  gave  reason 
to  suppose  that  his  taste  for  the  sea  was  something  more  than 
this.  He  had  never  yet  beheld  the  ocean,  though  it  was  but 
twelve  miles  from  his  school.  One  day,  when  the  school  had  a 
holiday,  he  and  one  of  his  school-fellows  walked  that  twelve 
miles  to  the  shore,  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  gaze  upon  the 


sill    JOHN     FRANKLIN.  391 

sea.  All  that  he  had  ever  heard  or  dreamed  of  the  ♦^'•randeur 
aud  charm  of  the  ocean  was  more  than  realized,  and  he  sat, 
hour  after  hour,  entranced  with  the  magnificence  of  the  view. 
From  that  day  he  was  never  shaken  in  his  resolve  to  spend  his 
life  upon  the  sea. 

As  he  was  deaf  to  the  dissuasions  of  his  friends,  his  father 
resolved  to  give  him  a  taste  of  a  sailor's  life,  which,  he  felt 
sure,  would  sicken  him  of  it  forever.  He  procured  for  him  the 
post  of  cabin-boy  in  a  merchant  vessel  bound  for  Lisbon,  and 
the  lad  made  the  voyage  in  that  capacity.  It  was  one  lon«- 
festival  to  him,  and  he  came  back  to  his  father's  house  enthu- 
siastic for  the  delights  of  "  a  life  on  the  ocean  wave."  His 
fiither  now  yielded  to  the  boy's  unconqueraljle  instinct,  and 
procured  for  him  a  midshipman's  place  on  board  of  a  seventy- 
four  gun  ship  of  the  royal  navy. 

This  was  in  the  year  1800,  when  he  was  fourteen  years  old. 
His  love  for  an  ocean  life  was  soon  put  to  severe  tests.    In  1801, 
"svhen  he  was  fifteen,  his  ship  took  part  in  the  battle  of  Copen- 
hagen, under  Nelson,  —  Nelson's   hardest  fight,   many   sailors 
think.     A  few  weeks  after,  he  was  ordered  to  the  Investigator, 
fitting  out  to  explore  and  survey  the  coasts  of  Australia.     It 
was  on  this  long  and  perilous  voyage  that  he  acquired  some  of 
that   knowledge    of   navigation,    astronomy,  and    mathematics 
w^hich  fitted  him  for  his  subsequent  career  as  a  discoverer.     The 
Investigator  was  so  completely  w^orn   out  in  this  service,  that 
her   captain   pronounced   her  unfit  for  the  voyage  home,  and 
accordingly  he  and  young  Franklin  set  sail  for  England  in  a 
returning  storeship,  to  procure  another  vessel  in  wdiich  to  con- 
tinue their  surveys.     They  had  sailed  one  hundred  and  eighty 
miles  from  the  Australian  coast,  when  the  ship  struck  a  coral- 
reef,  and  sunk.    The  same  fate  befell  a  companion  vessel.     The 
crews  of  both  ships,  ninety-four  persons  in  all,  succeeded  in 
getting  upon  a  strip  of  sand  twelve  feet  wide,  two  hundred  feet 
long,  and  four  feet,  at  the  highest  point,  above  the  level  of  the 
sea.     Luckily,  the  provisions  of  the  vessel  were  accessible,  and 
a  boat  was  rescued  from  the  wreck.    On  this  strip  of  sand  they 
lived  for  fifty  days,  while  Franklin's  captain  went  in  the  boat  to 


392  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGEAPHT. 

the  port  whence  he  had  sailed,  and  returned  with  vessels  to 
bring  them  off. 

From  this  sand-bank,  Franklin  and  a  brother  officer  found 
passage  to  Canton,  where  they  joined  an  English  fleet  of  sixteen 
sail,  just  starting  for  England.  On  the  voyage  home  this  fleet 
was  attacked  by  a  French  squadron,  commanded  by  one  of  the 
ablest  of  the  French  admirals.  In  this  action  Franklin  volun- 
teered as  signal  midshipman,  and  won  high  praise  by  the 
coolness  which  he  displayed  in  the  performance  of  a  very 
trying  duty.  The  French  fleet  was  repulsed,  and  the  voyage 
was  pursued  without  further  interruption. 

After  a  holiday  at  home,  he  joined  one  of  the  ships  of  that 
great  fleet  which  Lord  Nelson  was  preparing  for  a  cruise  against 
the  fleets  of  France.  At  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  fought  in 
1805,  Midshipman  Franklin  again  performed  the  perilous  duty 
of  signal  officer.  His  comrades  in  the  poop  fell  fast  about  him 
on  that  bloody  day,  until  all  were  dead  or  wounded  except  four ; 
but,  amid  the  horrors  of  the  scene,  this  youth  of  nineteen  dis- 
played an  attentive  intrepidity  which  established  his  character 
as  a  trustworthy  officer.  He  was  promoted,  not  long  after,  to 
the  rank  of  lieutenant.  By  the  time  our  war  of  1812  broke 
out,  he  had  fought  his  way  up  to  the  first  lieutenancy  of  a 
seventy-four. 

It  was  while  holding  that  rank  in  the  ship  Bedford,  that  he 
took  pai't  in  the  celebrated  gun-boat  battle  near  New  Orleans. 
The  approach  to  that  city  was  guarded  by  five  American 
schooners,  each  carrying  several  guns.  The  moment  the  British 
admiral  perceived  this  little  fleet  riding  at  anchor  right  in  his 
path,  he  saw  that  the  obstacle  must  be  removed,  or  the  British 
troops  could  not  be  landed.  Fifty  open  boats  advanced  upon 
them ;  the  boats  of  the  Bedford  being  commanded  by  Lieuten- 
ant Franklin.  The  gun-boats  were  so  well  defended,  that  they 
were  only  captured  after  a  battle  of  two  hours,  and  a  loss  to  the 
English  of  seventeen  killed  and  seventy-seven  wounded,  and  to 
the  Americans  of  sixty  killed  and  wounded.  Lieutenant  Frank- 
lin leaped  on  board  one  of  the  gun-boats  and  led  the  hand-to- 
hand  fight  which  resulted  in  its  capture.     He  was  wounded  in 


SIR    JOHN    FRANKLIN.  393 

this  eucouiitcr,  for  the  first  aud  only  time  during  so  many  years 
of  active  seiTice. 

Peace  blessed  the  earth  once  more  in  1815.  Lieutenant 
Franklin  employed  the  leisure  of  the  next  three  years  in  study- 
ing those  branches  of  science  which  navigators  specially  need  to 
know  ;  and  when,  in  1818,  the  attention  of  his  government  was 
turned  to  Arctic  exploration,  he  was  among  the  first  to  volun- 
teer his  services.  During  the  next  four  years  he  was  chiefly 
employed  in  navigating  the  polar  seas  and  traversing  polar  lands. 
No  discoveries  of  the  first  importance  rewarded  his  exertions ; 
but  his  fortitude,  audacity,  nautical  skill,  scientific  knowledge, 
and  his  admirable  treatment  of  the  men  under  his  command, 
gave  him  a  high  place  in  the  affections  and  esteem  of  his  coun- 
trymen. 

At  thirty-six,  being  then  a  post-captain  in  the  navy,  he  mar- 
ried Miss  Porden,  a  young  lady  of  some  note  in  the  literary 
world  as  a  poetess.  Three  years  later  his  wife  was  dying  of 
consumption,  and  an  expedition  under  his  command  was  ready 
to  sail  to  the  Arctic  seas.  She  besought  him  not  to  delay  his 
departure.  Yielding  to  her  entreaties,  he  set  sail,  and  the  very 
next  day  she  died.  This  voyage  was  so  successful  that,  upon 
his  return  two  years  after,  he  was  knighted,  received  a  gold 
medal  from  France,  and  was  elected  to  most  of  the  learned  socie- 
ties of  Europe.  Not  long  after  his  return  he  married  Miss  Jane 
Griffin,  the  lady  who  displayed  such  remarkable  perseverance  in 
attempting  his  rescue  from  the  northern  snows. 

As  Governor  of  Van  Dieman's  Land — an  office  which  he  held 
from  1836  to  1844  —  he  won  the  profound  esteem  and  gratitude 
of  every  public-spirited  inhabitant  of  the  island.  It  was  he  who 
founded  the  college  there  which  the  good  Dr.  Arnold  seriously 
thought  of  going  out  to  take  charge  of.  From  his  own  purse  he 
contributed  most  liberally  to  the  endowment  of  several  useful  insti- 
tutions, and  exerted  the  whole  of  his  talents  and  influence  in  rais- 
ing the  standard  of  civilization  in  that  part  of  the  world.  When 
he  left  the  island  to  return  home,  he  was  followed  to  the  ship  by 
a  concourse  of  all  that  was  best  and  highest  in  the  colony. 

It  was  in  1845,  May  26th,  that  Sir  John  Franklin  sailed  from 
England  on  that  voyage  of  northern  discovery  from  which  ho 


394  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

has  never  returned.  He  was  then  fifty-nme  years  of  age,  —  too 
old  for  such  a  service,  — though  he  appeared  then  to  have  lost 
little  of  his  pristine  vigor. 

The  Erebus  and  the  Terror,  the  vessels  commanded  by  Sir 
John  on  his  last  voyage,  were  built  for  sailing  ships,  but  were 
furnished,  for  this  expedition,  with  small  steam-engines  and 
screw-propellers,  to  be  used  in  dead  calms  and  in  narrow  ice- 
gorges  and  channels.  They  were  small  vessels,  built  as  strongly 
as  it  is  possible  for  ships  to  be,  and  were  packed  as  full  of  stores 
and  fuel  as  they  would  hold.  The  whole  number  of  persons 
that  sailed  in  them  was  only  one  hundred  and  thirty-eight ;  and 
yet,  with  the  most  skilful  packing,  there  could  not  be  got  into 
the  ships  a  three  years'  supply  of  provisions.  As  it  was  thought 
advisable  to  provide  a  full  three  years'  supply,  another  small 
vessel  was  loaded,  which  was  to  accompany  the  ships  as  far  as 
Davis'  Strait,  where  the  ice  beirins,  there  transfer  her  load  of 
stores  to  the  Erebus  and  Terror,  and  return  to  England. 

The  commander  of  the  expedition  was  ordered  by  his  govern- 
ment to  enter  the  northern  waters  by  Davis'  Strait,  Baffin's 
Bay,  and  Lancaster  Sound;  thence,  through  Barrow's  Strait,  to 
the  ocean  washing  the  northern  coast  of  North  America,  keep- 
ing as  far  south  as  possible,  and  so  make  his  way  to  Behring 
Strait  and  the  Pacific.  He  was  ordered  not  to  remain  in  the 
arctic  regions  more  than  two  winters.  Therefore,  as  he  sailed  in 
the  spring  of  1845,  he  was  due  in  England  in  the  autumn  of  1847. 
He  w^as  specially  ordered  to  return  in  that  year,  unless  powerful 
reasons  should  induce  him  to  prolong  his  stay.  In  fact,  although 
he  was  furnished  with  orders  for  form's  sake,  his  own  discretion 
was  made  the  final  arbiter  of  his  conduct. 

The  two  ships  and  their  tender  sailed  from  Sheerness,May  19, 
1845.  In  Davis'  Strait  the  tender  was  unloaded  and  sent  home, 
w^here  she  arrived  in  August.  July  26,  1845,  two  months  after 
the  ships  had  lost  sight  of  England,  they  were  seen  by  a  whaler 
about  the  middle  of  Baffin's  Bay,  moored  to  an  iceberg.  As 
that  was  where  they  ought  to  have  been  at  the  time,  it  is  con- 
cluded that  all  had  gone  well  with  the  ships  thus  far. 

Nothing  further  was  heard  of  the  expedition.  The  whole  of 
the  year  1846  passed  without  exciting  much  apprehension,  ex* 


SIR    JOHN    FRANKLIN.  395 

cept  among  the  friends  of  the  adventurers ;  but  when  the  year 
.1847  came  to  an  end  without  bringhig  any  tidings  of  them,  the 
most  serious  alarm  was  felt,  since  the  supplies  must  by  that 
time  have  been  nearly  exhausted.  At  the  beginning  of  1848 
measures  were  taken  for  beginning  that  search  for  the  missing 
men  which  is  unique  in  the  annals  of  the  w^orld,  and  which  the 
latest  posterity  will  read  with  admiration,  if  the  story  shall  bo 
gathered  up  and  told  by  a  competent  narrator. 

First  of  all,  two  vessels,  the  Herald  and  the  Plover,  were  de- 
spatched, early  in  1848,  around  Cape  Horn  to  Behring  Strait, 
with  orders  to  remain  there,  ready  to  succor  and  receive  Sir 
John  Franklin  and  his  men  in  case  they  should  succeed  in  get- 
ting through.  If  they  got  through  at  all,  after  a  three  years' 
struggle,  it  was  well  known  that  they  would  reach  the  straits 
with  empty  beef-barrels  and  bread-lockers. 

About  the  same  time,  two  other  ships,  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Sir  James  Clark  Eoss,  started  for  Baffin's  Bay,  with  or- 
ders to  pursue  the  course  designed  to  be  taken  by  the  missing 
ships,  to  explore  the  coasts  for  signs  of  encampments  and  winter 
quarters,  and  to  push  on  as  fir  as  the  ice  permitted  in  the  way 
Sir  John  Franklin  intended  to  go.  Captain  Eoss,  Avho  appears 
to  have  been  a  very  enterprising  and  competent  officer,  pene- 
trated as  far  as  he  could  during  the  short  summer  of  1848,  and 
continued  his  search  during  the  next  winter  by  sending  out 
sledding  parties  in  all  directions.  Not  a  single  trace  of  the  lost 
mariners  was  discovered,  though  it  is  now  known  that  the  Ere- 
bus and  Terror  passed  that  very  winter  on  the  coast  explored 
with  so  much  care.  Some  of  Captain  Eoss'  parties  may  have 
passed  within  ten  miles  of  Sir  John's  winter  quarters,  or  even 
nearer. 

In  the  spring  of  the  same  year,  1848,  Sir  John  Eichardson, 
of  the  British  navy,  and  Dr.  John  Eae,  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  men  of  splendid  physical  powers,  as  well  as  of  high 
intelligence,  left  England  with  the  design  of  penetrating  to  the 
Arctic  Ocean  by  means  of  the  Mackenzie  Eiver,  which  empties 
into  it,  and  then  exploring  the  coast  on  foot,  as  far  as  the  season 
admitted.  Boats  were  constructed  in  England  and  sent  to  the 
head  of  Mackenzie  Eiver  by  way  of  Hudson's  Bay,  and  the  two 


396  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

adventurers  came  to  New  York,  early  iu  the  year,  and  travelled 
by  land  and  water  to  the  beginning  of  navigation  on  the  Mack- 
enzie. They  reached  the  Arctic  Ocean  iu  safety,  and  then  leav^ 
\ng  their  boats  advauced  on  foot  along  the  shore  to  the  distance 
of  eight  hundred  miles, — as  far  as  the  Coppermine  Eiver, — leav- 
ing traces  and  mementos  of  their  presence  everywhere,  with 
directions  to  the  lost  mariners  how  to  proceed  so  as  to  meet  the 
searching  parties.  Discovering  no  signs  of  them,  they  retraced 
their  steps,  and  passed  the  winter  on  the  shores  of  Great  Bear 
Lake.  When  the  summer  opened,  Sir  John  Eichardson  re- 
turned to  England,  but  the  untiring  Rae  continued  the  search 
for  two  summers  more,  but  without  success. 

Thus,  during  the  year  1848,  the  arctic  regions  were  pene- 
trated, so  to  speak,  at  each  end  and  in  the  middle,  without  any 
result  whatever.  The  ships  in  Behring  Straits  discovered  noth- 
ing, and  remained  at  their  station.  The  ships  under  Sir  James 
Clark  Ross,  after  passing  a  summer  and  winter  iu  the  search, 
started  at  the  beo^inninsj  of  the  second  summer  to  renew  the  at- 
tempt,  but  were  caught  in  an  immense  ice-drift  and  carried  away 
into  the  Atlantic,  and  were  not  released  until  it  was  too  late  to 
return.  They  were  obliged,  therefore,  to  sail  for  England.  The 
marching  party  under  Richardson  and  Rae  had  accomplished 
nothing,  and  Dr.  Rae  was  still  pursuing  the  search. 

These  costly  failures,  so  far  from  discouraging  the  government 
and  people  of  England,  w^rought  up  the  whole  nation  to  an  en- 
thusiasm for  renewing  the  search  on  a  scale  to  insure  success. 
In  March,  1849,  the  government  offered  a  reward  of  twenty 
thousand  pounds  sterling  to  any  man  or  party  who  should  give 
Sir  John  Franklin's  men  any  effective  succor.  Lad}^  Franklin, 
at  her  own  expense,  despatched  a  supply  of  coal  to  be  deposited 
on  the  coasts  of  Lancaster  Sound.  The  most  extensive  prepara- 
tions were  pushed  forward  during  the  year  1849,  and,  early  in 
the  following  year,  not  less  than  twelve  vessels  sailed  for  the 
Arctic  world  to  join  in  the  search.  The  Enterprise  and  En- 
deavor, under  Captain  Ross,  went  round  Cape  Horn  to  Behring 
Straits,  and,  passing  through  the  straits,  made  an  extensive  ex- 
ploration of  that  portion  of  the  Arctic  Sea.  Two  solid  sailing  ships, 
attended  by  two  steamers,  as  tugs  and  tenders,  the  whole  under 


SIR    JOHN    FRANKLIN.  397 

Captain  Austin,  of  tlie  royal  navy,  entered  Baffin's  Bay,  antl 
pushed  on  through  Lancaster  Sound  to  Barrow's  Strait.  The 
Hudson's  Bay  Company  despatched  their  schooner,  Felix,  to 
cruise  in  the  same  waters.  Lady  Franklin  equipped  the  Albert, 
and  sent  her  to  the  same  region  in  command  of  Captain  For- 
syth. Mr.  Henry  Grinnell,  of  New  York,  contributed  thirty 
thousand  dollars  toward  the  despatch  of  tw^o  ships  from  New^- 
York,  under  Lieutenant  De  Haven,  of  the  United  States  Navy. 
Besides  these,  there  were  two  merchant  vessels,  under  Captain 
Penny,  in  the  same  seas;  making  twelve  vessels  in  all,  without 
including  the  boats  under  Dr.  Eae. 

It  is  now  believed  that  if  all  the  fleet  cruisins:  from  Lancaster 
Sound  inwards,  had  been  under  the  orders  of  one  efficient  man, 
some  of  Franklin's  men  w^ould  have  been  saved ;  but,  as  each 
commander  pursued  his  own  course,  some  portions  of  the  coasts 
and  seas  w^ere  not  gone  over  at  all.  The  results  of  all  these 
efibrts  in  1850  were  as  follows  :  — 

1.  Captain  Ommaney,  commanding  a  steam-tender,  discov- 
ered on  Beechy  Island  the  traces  of  an  encampment,  which  he 
concluded  to  be  Franklin's. 

2.  Lieutenant  De  Haven,  of  the  United  States  navy,  landed 
at  the  same  spot,  and  confirmed  Captain  Ommaney's  discovery. 

3.  Captain  Penny,  arriving  at  the  same  place,  made  a  thorough 
examination  of  the  whole  vicinity,  and  made  discoveries  of  the 
highest  interest.  He  found  the  site  of  an  encampment  which  had 
evidently  been  one  of  Franklin's  winter-quarters.  There  w^ere 
plenty  of  empty  meat-cans  and  birds'  bones  scattered  about ; 
there  was  the  site  of  a  tent  paved  with  flat  stones,  the  embank- 
ment of  a  house,  the  traces  of  a  garden,  and  three  graves,  each 
marked  by  a  head-board,  bearing  the  name  of  one  of  Franklin's 
party.  The  dates  upon  these  boards  show^ed  that  the  three  men 
had  died  during  the  winter  of  1845-6,  that  is,  the  first  winter 
after  leaving  England. 

On  the  supposition  that  Sir  John  Franklin  had  abandoned 
these  winter-quarters  in  July,  1864,  four  entire  years  had 
elapsed  since  he  and  his  men  had  been  upon  Beechey  Island. 
Four  years  in  such  a  region,  with  provisions  for  just  half  that 
period  !   The  men  who  explored  this  encampment  felt  that  it  gave 


398  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY, 

them  small  hope  of  finding  any  of  their  missing  friends  alive. 
The  neighborhood  was  most  minutely  searched  for  some  writing 
that  should  indicate  what  direction  Sir  John  had  taken  on  leav- 
ing that  spot ;  but,  excepting  the  inscriptions  upon  the  head- 
boards, not  a  syllable  was  found.  The  total  result  of  the  dis- 
coveries up  to  the  end  of  1850  was,  that  all  had  gone  well  with 
Sir  John  during  the  first  year  of  his  exploration. 

This  numerous  fleet  wintered  in  the  arctic  waters,  and  sent 
out  marching-parties  and  sledding-parties,  which  made  many 
discoveries  of  a  geographical  nature,  but  added  nothing  what- 
ever to  our  knowledge  of  Sir  John  Franklin's  ftite.  Not  another 
trace   of  him  was  discovered  that  winter.     In  the  summer  of 

1851,  one  after  another,  all  the  vessels  returned  home. 

The  public  was  still  unsatisfied.  The  news  of  the  discovery 
of  the  encampment  inflamed  anew  the  zeal  of  the  people,  which 
was  further  increased  when  it  became  known  that  dissensions 
had  existed  among  the  various  independent  commanders,  and 
that,  in  consequence,  the  search  had  been  unsystematic  and  in- 
complete. And  now  arose  a  theory  that,  around  the  Pole,  there 
is  a  vast  open  sea,  into  which  Sir  John  had  sailed,  and  from 
which  he  could  not  escape.  Nonsensical  as  this  idea  now  seems, 
it  had  many  vehement  advocates  in  the  press,  and  led  astray 
several  of  the  able  commanders  who  were  determined  to  con- 
tinue the  search.  Lady  Franklin  was  not  deceived  by  it, 
because  she  knew  two  things  :  first,  —  that  her  husband  was 
ordered  to  keep  to  the  South  ;  and,  second,  —  that  her  husband 
was  a  man  whose  religion  it  was  to  obey  orders.  Her  ship,  the 
Albert,  sent  out  by  her  in  1852,  was  almost  the  only  vessel  that 
attempted  to  look  for  Sir  John  where  alone  he  was  likely  to  be 
found. 

Immense   ^ireparations  were   made   to   renew  the  search  in 

1852,  although  seven  years  had  then  elapsed  since  the  depart- 
ure of  Sir  John  Franklin  from  England.  Captain  Sir  Edward 
Belcher,  in  command  of  a  fleet  of  five  thoroughly  equipped 
vessels,  sailed  from  England,  and  proceeded  through  Baflln's 
Bay  to  the  waters  beyond  it.  After  the  short  summer  ended, 
Captain  Belcher  set  on  foot  a  system  of  sledding  expeditions, 
which  were  kept   up  during  the  whole  of  the  arctic   winter. 


SIR    JOHN    FRANKLIN.  399 

Lady  Franklin's  two  vessels  were  in  the  same  region,  from  one 
of  which  a  marching  party  went  out  and  performed  a  journey 
of  sixtj'-three  days,  in  a  temperature  that  varied  from  50*^  to 
90°  below  zero.  All  these  cxei-tions  were  fruitless.  The  only 
result  of  this  year's  search  was  the  finding  of  a  piece  of  iron 
and  a  part  of  a  door,  wdiich  might  have  belonged  to  one  of  the 
lost  ships.  They  were  in  possession  of  a  party  of  Escjuimaux, 
who  could  give  no  intelligible  account  of  how  they  came  by 
them.  Meanwdiile,  Dr.  Eae  had  been  exploring  the  coast  be- 
tween the  Mackenzie  and  the  Coppermine,  but  he  found  nothing 
except  a  portion  of  a  ship's  ice  plank,  which,  he  believed^  had 
belonc^ed  to  one  of  the  missin^i:  vessels. 

Through  1853  the  search  was  vigorously  continued.  This 
year  was  signalized  by  Dr.  Kane's  brilliant  but  fruitless  attempt 
to  get  into  that  imaginary  polar  sea  of  which  mention  has  just 
been  made.  Dr.  Kane  spent  a  winter  farther  north  than  any 
of  the  explorers,  and  experienced,  at  one  time,  a  temperature 
of  99^  below  zero.  He  spent  two  winters  in  the  arctic  w^orld, 
and  only  escaped  at  last  by  abandoning  his  ship,  and  march- 
ing to  one  of  the  Danish  settlements  in  Greenland,  a  distance 
of  thirteen  hundred  miles. 

It  was  reserved  for  Dr.  John  Rae,  a  mere  pedestrian,  to  re- 
veal to  the  world  all  that  is  ever  likely  to  be  kno^\ai  of  the  fate 
of  his  countrymen.  Having  totally  failed  in  his  explorations 
between  the  two  rivers,  Mackenzie  and  Coppermine,  he  started, 
early  in  1854,  on  foot,  to  examine  a  certain  part  of  the  coast  of 
Regent's  Inlet.  In  April,  at  the  end  of  this  inlet,  he  met  a 
party  of  Esquimaux,  who  had  in  their  possession  various  articles 
of  silver  ware,  such  as  were  known  to  belong  to  officers  of  the 
Erebus  and  Terror.  He  eagerly  questioned  these  men.  He 
learned  from  them  that,  early  in  1850,  a  party  of  Esquimaux, 
w^ho  were  killing  seals  on  King  William's  Land,  had  fallen  in 
with  a  party  of  white  men,  about  forty  in  number,  who  were 
sloTvly  and  w^earily  dragging  sleds  toward  the  south.  iS'one  of 
the  w^hite  men  could  speak  Esquimaux,  but  they  learned,  by 
signs,  that  the  ships  of  this  party  had  been  crushed  by  ice,  and 
that  they  were  then  going  south  to  shoot  deer.  They  further 
assured  Di.  Rae,  in  answer  to  his  repeated  questions,  that  thero 


400  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

was  no  old  man  in  the  party — no  man  sixty-four  years  of  age, 
which  Sir  John  Franklin  would  have  been  in  1850.  The  white 
men,  they  said,  were  very  thin  and  tired,  and  all  of  them  had 
hold  of  the  sled  rope  except  one.  The  Esquimaux  further 
stated,  that  as  late  as  the  month  of  May,  1850,  some  of  their 
tribe  had  heard  shots  in  the  direction  in  which  the  white  men 
had  marched,  and  that  late  in  the  same  season,  they  had  found 
thirty-five  uuburied  bodies  of  white  men,  and  some  graves,  as 
well  as  a  great  number  of  guns,  watches,  vessels,  and  other 
articles,  fragments  of  which  they  still  had  and  exhibited.  They 
believed  that  these  men  had  starved  to  death,  and  that,  before 
all  had  perished,  they  had  began  to  devour  one  another.  They 
inferred  this  from  the  condition  of  some  of  the  bodies. 

Dr.  Rae,  being  unable  to  follow  up  this  important  clue,  sent 
home  the  news,  and,  early  in  1855,  Mr.  James  Anderson  and  a 
paiiy  were  despatched  by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  to  the 
spot  designated  by  the  Esquimaux  as  the  scene  of  the  final 
catastrophe.  He  was  unable  to  reach  it,  but  he  found  abundant 
confirmation  of  the  story  related  to  Dr.  Eae  by  the  Indians. 
Amons:  a  oq-eat  number  of  articles  known  to  have  belonsfed  to 
the  lost  ships,  he  found  a  plank  with  the  word  Terror  painted 
upon  it,  and  a  stick  on  which  was  carved  the  word  Stanley,  the 
name  of  the  suro^eon  of  the  Erebus.  The  natives  all  made  siirns 
that  these  articles  had  belonged  to  a  party  of  white  men  who 
had  starved  to  death  several  years  before. 

Here  the  search  would  have  been  discontinued  but  for  the 
zeal  and  energy  of  Lady  Franklin.  She  could  not  be  content 
with  this  vague  and  traditional  information,  and,  under  her  aus- 
pices, Captain  M'Clintock,  in  a  yacht  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
tons,  made  his  way  to  the  scene,  and  brought  home  a  large  num- 
ber of  relics  of  the  ill-fated  expedition.  She  could  no  longer 
doubt  that  the  report  originally  brought  by  Dr.  Eae  was  the  truth, 
and  nothing  of  much  importance  has  since  been  added  to  it. 

This  prolonged  search  for  a  handful  of  men  presents  a  curi- 
ous contrast  to  the  recklessness  with  which  human  life  is  fre- 
quently risked  and  destroyed.  We  kill  foi-ty  thousand  of  one 
another  in  a  great  battle  without  the  slightest  remorse  ;  but  if  a 
poor  little  child  goes  astray  in  the  woods,  the  population  of  half 


SIR    JOHN    FRANKLIN.  401 

i»  ilozcii  towns  engages  eagerly  in  the  search  for  it,  day  and 
SJ'-^ht,  till  its  fate  is  ascci'taincd.  Thousands  of  England's  peo- 
ple are  permitted  to  perish  every  year  for  want  of  food  and  care, 
and  no  one  regards  the  fact ;  but  let  a  few  men  be  lost  in  the 
polar  ice,  and  the  resources  of  the  empire  are  lavished  in  thf> 
endeavor  to  rescue  them.     Such  a  creature  is  man  ! 

The  search,  I  may  add,  was  more  creditable  to  the  heart  than 
to  the  head  of  England.  Nine-tenths  of  the  force  employed 
■^as  wasted.  The  ships  sent  through  Behring  Straits,  and  those 
which  sought  to  enter  the  imaginary  Polar  Sea,  might  as  well 
have  remained  at  home.  The  only  vessels  which  came  near 
accomplishing  the  object  of  their  voyage  were  the  two  or  three 
which  pressed  on  in  the  course  marked  out  in  Sir  John  Frank- 
lin's orders,  and  which  all  who  imderstood  the  man  must  have 
known  that  he  would  adhere  to  as  long  as  possible.  Those  or- 
ders, in  fact,  were  nothing  but  the  formal  or  official  statement 
of  his  own  convictions  as  to  the  course  which  he  ought  to  take. 

26 


402  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGBAPHr. 


TEE  GREAT  CATHERINE  OF  RUSSIA, 


-•o*- 


Next  to  Frederick  the  Great,  Catherine  II.,  of  Kussia  was  i 
the  most  renowned  monarch  of  her  time.  Eighty  years  ago  tti«  i 
world  was  filled  with  her  f\ime,  and  the  Eiissian  people  to  this  j 
day  regard  her  as  the  true  successor  of  Peter  the  Great.  i 

She  had  not  a  drop  of  Russian  blood  in  her  veins.  She  was  ' 
the  daughter  of  a  poor  German  prince,  who,  at  the  time  of  her ; 
birth,  was  a  major-general  in  the  Prussian  army.  Her  baptis-  I 
mal  names  were  Sophia- Augusta-Frederika,  and  she  was  usually  | 
styled  tlie  Princess  Sophia.  Born  in  1729,  she  lived  until  her  ' 
fourteenth  year  at  the  little  German  city,  the  garrison  of  which  ; 
her  father  commanded.  She  was  educated  in  a  very  simple  and  ' 
rational  manner,  and  associated  familiarly  with  the  children  of  | 
the  respectable  fixmilies  of  the  town.  Her  mother,  who  was  a  ; 
woman  of  spirit  and  eminent  good  sense,  took  care  to  stifle  in  ! 
her  young  mind  the  family  pride  so  common  in  the  princely  j 
houses  of  Germany.  She  required  her  to  salute  the  ladies  of  ! 
her  society  by  kissing  their  robes  in  the  fashion  of  the  time,  i 
and  caused  her  to  be  thoroughly  instructed  in  useful  knowledge.  I 
At  the  age  of  fourteen,  when  she  was  residing  at  the  court  of 
Frederick,  she  was  merely  remarked  as  a  lively,  robust,  and 
well-behaved  girl.  No  one  could  have  supposed  it  probable 
that  she  was  destined  one  day  to  reign  over  the  most  extensive  i 
empire  in  Europe,  and  by  her  arts  and  arms  to  make  it  still  ; 
more  extensive  and  powerful. 

The  ruler  of  Russia  at  that  time  was  the  Empress  Elizabeth,  i 
a  woman  sunk  in  vice  and  debauchery,  and  without  any  lineal  i 
heir  to  her  crown.      She  had  selected  as  her  successor  her  | 
nephew,  a  young  German  prince,  whom  she  had  brought  to 
Moscow,  and  was  educating  in  the  Greek  religion.     Upon  this  ! 


CAT 


I  -^  .     n      r^\  n 


THE    GREAT    CATHERINE    OF    RUSSIA.  403 

prince,  who  bore  the  name  of  Peter,  nature  had  fixed  the  stamp 
of  inferiority.  He  was  dissipated,  vulgar  in  his  manners,  and 
totally  destitute  of  the  sj^  ^acity,  courage,  and  firmness  necessary 
to  the  head  of  a  barbae  ous  empire.  Nevertheless,  he  was  the 
heir  to  the  throne ;  and  when  he  had  attained  the  age  of  sixteen 
the  empress  looked  about  among  the  courts  of  Europe  to  find 
him  a  wife. 

She  first  solicited  for  him  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Amelia, 
the  youngest  sister  of  Frederick  the  Great ;  but  Frederick 
valued  his  sister  too  much  to  consign  her  to  a  court  so  corrupt 
and  debauched  as  that  of  Russia.  Politely  refusing  the  alliance, 
he  suggested  his  relation,  the  Princess  Sophia,  then  aged  four- 
teen. Elizabeth  approved  this  choice,  demanded  the  hand  of 
the  young  princess,  and  obtained  without  difficulty  the  consent 
of  her  parents.  It  was,  indeed,  considered  a  splendid  match 
for  the  daughter  of  a  German  prince.  On  arriving  at  Moscow, 
in  her  fifteenth  year,  she  was  presented  to  her  future  husband, 
and,  it  is  said,  conceived  for  him  so  profound  a  disgust  that  she 
fell  sick,  and  was  unable  to  reappear  in  public  for  several 
weeks. 

She  submitted,  however,  to  her  fate,  and,  after  being  ba^D- 
tized  into  the  Greek  church  under  the  name  of  Catherine,  she 
was  married  to  the  imperial  prince,  — he  being  seventeen  years 
of  age,  and  she  sixteen.  Seldom  has  there  been  a  more  ill- 
assorted  union.  Catherine  was  born  to  command  ;  Peter  was 
born  to  serve.  She  was  a  young  lady  of  wit,  information,  and 
good-breeding ;  he  knew  no  pleasures  except  those  which  he 
could  enjoj''  in  common  with  the  besotted  officers  of  the  Impe- 
rial guard. 

During  the  first  years  of  her  marriage,  living  a  secluded  life, 
she  devoted  herself  to  reading  and  study.  Many  years  after- 
wards, when  she  was  in  correspondence  with  Voltaire,  she 
assured  that  celebrated  author  that  it  was  to  his  works  she  owed 
the  cultivation  of  her  mind. 

"I  can  assure  you,"  she  wrote  to  him  once,  "that  since  the 
year  1746,  when  I  became  mistress  of  my  own  time,  I  have 
been  under  the  gi'^atest  obligations  to  you.  Before  that  period 
I  read  nothing  but  romances ;  but  by  chance  your  works  fell 


404  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

into  my  hands,  and  ever  since  I  have  not  ceased  to  read  them  , 
and  I  have  desired  no  books  which  were  not  as  well  written  as 
yom's,  or  as  instructive.  But  where  can  I  find  such?  I  return 
continually  to  the  creator  of  ray  taste,  as  to  my  dearest  amuse- 
ment. Assuredly,  sir,  if  I  have  any  knowledge,  it  is  to  you 
that  I  owe  it.  I  am  reading,  at  present,  your  essay  upon  gen- 
eral history,  and  I  should  like  to  learn  every  page  of  it  by 
heart." 

Besides  reading  the  works  of  Voltaire,  she  learned  the  Rus- 
sian language,  which  is  the  most  difficult  of  the  European 
tongues.  At  the  same  time,  her  public  conduct,  as  the  Impe- 
rial princess,  presented  the  strongest  possible  contrast  to  that 
of  her  husband.  He  affected  to  despise  Russian  manners  ;  she 
affected  to  prefer  them.  He  was  a  violent  drunkard  ;  her  con- 
duct was  irreproachable.  He  took  no  care  to  conciliate  the 
good  will  either  of  the  nobles  or  of  the  people ;  she,  on  the 
contrary,  was  affable  to  all,  both  high  and  low,  and  preserved 
the  dignity  proper  to  her  rank  and  destiny.  While  he,  there- 
fore, remained  in  his  original  insignificance,  she  ever  grew  in 
importance  and  popularity. 

For  nine  years  their  marriage  was  unfruitful,  but  at  the  end 
of  that  time  she  gave  birth  to  a  prince,  who  was  afterwards  the 
Emperor  Paul,  and  perished  by  assassination.  Five  years  after, 
their  second  child  was  born,  a  daughter,  who  lived  but  two 
years.  Seventeen  years  after  her  marriage  with  Peter,  the 
Empress  Elizabeth  died,  leaving  her  husband  the  heir  to  the 
throne. 

It  now  appeared  that  the  unfortunate  Peter,  who  was  then 
wholly  governed  by  one  of  his  mistresses,  had  resolved  to  repu- 
diate his  wife  as  an  adulteress,  and  to  place  upon  the  throne 
the  companion  of  his  debaucheries.  Man}''  authors  assert  that 
Catherine  had  been  indeed  false  to  her  husband  ;  but,  upon  con- 
sidering all  the  facts  in  the  case,  I  find  the  probabilities  tend 
strongly  toward  her  exculpation,  and  the  best  authorities  agree 
in  believing  that  Peter  was  the  veritable  father  of  Catherine's 
children.  Aware  of  the  intention  of  her  husband,  Catherine 
and  her  adherents  resolved  to  prevent  its  execution  by  setting 
aside  Peter  himself. 


THE    GREAT    CATHERINE     OF    RUSSIA.  405 

Unpopular  with  the  army,  of  which  he  disdained  even  to 
wear  the  uniform ;  unpopular  with  the  nation,  because  he  was 
an  idohiter  of  Frederick  the  Great,  it  was  not  difficult  for  an 
able  and  popular  princess  to  defeat  his  purpose  and  seat  herself 
upon  his  throne.  On  the  decisive  day,  when  Peter  was  drunk 
in  a  chateau,  twenty-four  miles  from  St.  Petersburg,  Catherine 
appeared  in  the  capitol,  went  to  the  Church  of  Notre  Dame, 
and  was  there,  with  the  consent  of  the  Archbishop,  proclaimed 
Empress  of  Russia.  The  people  in  the  streets  saluted  her  as 
their  empress.  She  mounted  a  horse,  clad  in  the  uniform  of 
the  Imperial  Guard,  placed  herself  at  the  head  of  a  body  of 
troops,  and  invested  the  chateau  in  which  her  husband  was 
residing.  He  yielded  without  an  effort.  Having  abdicated  the 
throne,  he  was  confined  as  a  prisoner  in  a  neighboring  castle, 
where,  a  few  days  after,  he  died.  It  is  commonly  supposed 
that  he  was  murdered,  but  this  is  not  certain. 

Having  attained  the  supreme  authority,  it  cannot  be  denied 
that,  upon  the  whole,  Catherine  II.  used  it  for  the  advantage 
and  glory  of  Russia.  One  of  her  first  acts  was  to  recall  from 
Siberia  a  great  number  of  exiles,  and  to  restore  to  their  honors 
and  rank  many  persons  who  had  been  unjustly  deprived  of 
them  by  her  predecessor.  She  enriched  all  those  who  had 
taken  a  leading  part  in  raising  her  to  the  throne.  She  pub- 
lished severe  edicts  against  the  corruption  of  the  public  function- 
aries. One  of  her  first  acts  after  her  coronation  was  to  abolish 
torture  throughout  the  empire.  Soon  she  began  to  establish 
institutions  of  learning.  She  invited  foreigners  to  the  country, 
especially  those  who  were  skilful  in  agriculture.  She  founded 
a  great  number  of  cities,  and  embellished  others.  She  opened 
a  direct  overland  commerce  with  China,  and  nesrotiatcd  valuable 
commercial  treaties  with  England,  France,  and  Austria.  She 
established  a  simple  code  of  laws  for  the  empire,  which  is  still 
the  basis  of  the  interior  government  of  the  country.  She  en- 
abled the  serfs  to  purchase  their  freedom,  and  to  bu}^  portions 
of  land.  She  caused  canals  to  be  dug,  created  new  fleets,  and 
sent  out  expeditions  of  discovery.  She  was  one  of  the  first 
monarchs  of  Europe  to  introduce  the  practice  of  vaccination; 
to  conquer  the  superstitious  prejudices  of  the  people,  she  caused 


4:06  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

herself  to  be  vaccinated.  It  was  Catherine  who  created  the 
Russian  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  and  set  on  foot  a  kind 
of  geological  survey  of  the  empire.  She  established  libraries. 
After  the  death  of  Voltaire,  she  bought  all  his  books  and  manu- 
scripts, and  they  are  still  to  be  found  in  St.  Petersburg.  She 
sent  grfts  of  money,  as  well  as  friendly  appreciative  letters,  to 
the  philosophers  and  literary  men  of  other  countries.  She 
raised  the  celebrated  equestrian  statue  of  Peter  the  Great.  She 
watched  with  intelligent  care  the  education  of  her  grandchil- 
dren. Her  letters  to  Voltaire,  which  I  have  before  me  at  this 
moment,  are  sprightly,  witty,  graceful,  and  wise. 

"Tolerance,"  says  she,  in  one  of  them,  "is  established 
among  us.  It  is  part  of  the  fundamental  law  of  the  empire  ;  no 
one  in  Eussia  can  be  persecuted  for  opinion's  sake.  We  have, 
it  is  true,  some  fanatics  who,  from  want  of  being  persecuted, 
burn  themselves ;  and  if  the  fanatics  in  other  countries  would 
do  as  much,  it  would  be  no  great  harm  ;  the  world  would  be  all 
the  quieter  for  it,  and  honest  men  would  not  be  molested  for 
their  religion.  These,  sir,  are  the  sentiments  Avhich  we  owe  to 
the  founder  of  this  city  (Peter  the  Great) ,  whom  both  of  us 
admire." 

She  was  not  less  successful  in  war  than  in  peace.  Under  her 
reign  immense  provinces  were  added  to  Russia,  and  the  fleets 
of  Russia  gained  their  first  victories. 

I  shall  not  relate  the  scandals  which  appear  in  so  many  books 
respecting  this  illustrious  woman.  The  common  belief  is,  that 
she  had  a  new  lover  about  every  three  months,  who  was  then 
dismissed  with  gifts  and  pensions.  One  author  informs  us  that 
she  expended  in  this  way,  during  her  reign,  a  sum  of  money 
equal,  in  our  present  currency,  to  two  hundred  millions  of  dol- 
lars. Lovers  she  may  have  had  ;  but  when  I  read  her  pleasant, 
innocent,  and  high-bred  letters  to  the  great  men  of  her  time, 
and  when  I  run  over  the  catalosfue  of  the  immense  and  solid 
benefits  which  she  bestowed  upon  her  country,  I  find  it  impos- 
sible to  believe  that  she  ever  abandoned  herself  to  systematic 
debauchery. 

The  Count  Segur,  who  resided  for  some  time  at  her  court, 
gives  us  this  description  of  her  person  and  manners  :  — 


TUE    GREAT    CATHERINE    OF    RUSSIA.  407 

"Majestic  in  public,  pleasant  and  even  familiar  in  society, 
tier  gravity  was  agreeable  and  her  gayety  decent.  AVitli  an 
elevated  soul,  she  showed  but  little  imagination,  and  her  con- 
versation was  only  brilliant  except  when  she  spoke  of  history 
and  politics.  Then  her  character  gave  importance  to  her  words. 
It  was  the  imposing  queen,  as  well  as  the  amialjle  friend,  who 
spoke.  The  majesty  of  her  brow,  and  the  carriage  of  her  head, 
as  well  as  the  loftiness  of  her  glance  and  the  dignity  of  her 
demeanor,  appeared  to  increase  her  stature,  although  she  was 
not  tall.  Her  nose  was  aquiline,  her  eyes  were  blue,  with 
black  eyebrows,  and  the  expression  of  her  countenance  was 
exceedingly  sweet  and  attractive.  In  old  age,  to  conceal  the 
increasing  magnitude  of  her  body,  she  wore  flowing  robes  and 
large  sleeves,  similar  to  the  ancient  costume  of  the  Russuin 
ladies.  The  whiteness  and  brilliancy  of  her  complexion  she 
preserved  to  the  close  of  her  life.  Inconstant  in  her  passions, 
but  not  in  her  friendships,  she  governed  Russia  on  principles 
fixed  and  unchangeable.  She  never  abandoned  a  friend,  nor 
gave  up  a  project." 

She  died  in  November,  1796,  aged  sixty-seven,  in  the  thirty- 
fourth  year  of  her  reign,  and  was  succeeded  on  the  throne  by 
her  son,  Paul  I. 


408  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHT. 


CONFUCIUS. 


-•o*- 


The  writings  of  Confucius  are  the  Chinese  Bible.  Three 
hundred  and  sixty  millions  of  the  human  race  derive  their 
spiritual  nourishment  from  them,  and  venerate  their  author  as 
the  wisest  and  best  of  men.  During  the  last  few  years,  the 
life  and  works  of  this  Chinese  sage  have  been  much  studied  in 
France,  and  a  translation  of  his  principal  work  is  about  to 
appear,  executed  by  one  of  the  best  Chinese  scholars  in  Europe. 
This  author  has  also  given  to  the  French  public  a  more  minute 
and  correct  account  of  the  life  of  Confucius  than  any  previously 
published ;  so  that  we  have  now  the  means  of  understanding 
somethinof  of  the  man  and  of  his  doctrines. 

The  name  of  Confucius,  as  near  as  we  can  express  it  by 
English  letters,  was  Koung-Fou-Tseu,  which  is  said  to  mean 
Reverend  Master  Tseu.  If  the  syllables  are  pronounced  in  the 
French  manner,  they  sound  something  like  Confucius,  and 
probably  suggested  that  name.  The  sage  was  born  five 
hundred  and  fifty-one  years  before  the  Christian  era,  and  the 
Chinese  authors  are  unanimous  in  saying  that  he  was  descended 
from  an  emperor  who  reigned  over  China  four  thousand  four 
hundred  years  ago.  They  do  not  state,  however,  the  precise 
rank  or  condition  of  his  family  at  the  time  of  his  birth ;  but 
relate  that  when  the  boy  was  three  years  of  age  he  Icjst  his 
father,  and  that  his  mother  devoted  herself  to  perpetual  widow- 
hood in  order  to  live  only  for  the  child,  which,  she  said,  God 
had  given  her  in  answer  to  her  prayers.  The  same  writers 
vaunt  the  filial  piety  of  the  boy,  which  in  China  is  considered 
chief  among  the  virtues.  They  tell  us  that  he  avoided  the 
noisy  sports  of  his  young  friends,  and  gave  himself  to  the  prao* 


CONFUCIUS.  409 

tice  of  religious  rules,  the  meaning  of  which  he  early  strove  to 
discover.     One  author  observes  :  — 

"  To  hear  the  infant  Confucius  converse  on  morals  and  charity 
gave  the  impression  that  heaven  had  engraven  upon  his  heart  tho 
holy  principles  of  antiquity." 

In  his  seventh  year  his  mother  sent  him  to  a  public  school, 
where  he  was  so  well  instructed  that  the  name  of  his  school- 
master is  honored  in  China  to  this  day.  In  a  short  time,  we  are 
told,  he  so  much  surpassed  his  school-mates  that  his  teacher 
called  upon  him  to  assist  him  in  giving  instruction. 

This  high  honor,  says  a  Chinese  ^\Titer,  instead  of  makmg 
him  proud,  only  contributed  to  excite  in  him  the  sentiment  of 
modesty,  which  he  knew  he  must  possess  in  order  to  preserve 
the  friendship  of  his  comrades. 

At  the  a^re  of  seventeen  he  was  admitted  to  the  rank  of  man- 
darin,  and  received  the  appointment  of  inspector  of  the  grain 
market.  In  this  humble  position,  it  is  stated,  he  performed  his 
duties  with  the  most  scrupulous  exactness,  and  even  wished  to 
reform  the  abuses  which  his  predecessors  had  allowed  to  creep 
in.  The  better  to  carry  out  these  reforms,  he  studied  all  the 
details  of  the  buying  and  selling  of  grain.  In  his  nineteenth 
year  his  mother  chose  for  him  a  wife,  the  descendant  of  a  noble 
fiunily,  who  a  year  later  gave  him  a  son,  the  only  fruit  of  their 
union. 

While  he  was  still  a  very  young  man,  he  was  raised  to  the 
important  office  of  inspector-general  of  agriculture.  In  this 
high  post,  the  Chinese  authors  assure  us,  he  acquitted  himself 
with  so  much  zeal  and  wisdom,  that  the  fields  of  his  province, 
from  beino:  abandoned  and  uncultivated,  became  fertile  and 
flourishing,  and  where  lately  was  seen  nothing  but  idleness  and 
misery,  industry  and  abundance  reigned.  The  renown  of  so 
virtuous  an  officer  could  not  be  confined  to  his  native  province, 
but  spread  all  over  the  empire,  and  won  the  admiration  of 
princes  and  nobles. 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  be  promoted  to  the  highest  dig- 
nities of  the  empire,  his  mother,  in  the  flower  of  her  age,  sud- 
denly died.  Immediately,  in  accordance  with  the  ancient 
traditions,  he  resigned  his  office,  and  resolved  to  pay  all  the 


410  lEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPUY. 

honors  to  b's  mother's  memory  which  the  most  rigorous  of  the 
old  customs  clemaucled.  After  conveying  the  body  to  the  sum- 
mit of  a  mountain,  where  the  ashes  of  his  father  reposed,  he 
secluded  himself  from  society,  and  passed  three  whole  years  in 
mourning  the  irreparable  loss  which  he  had  sustained  —  his  only 
relief  being  the  study  of  philosophy.  "  This  act  of  piety,"  says 
one  of  his  CJiinese  biographers,  "made  such  an  impression  upon 
the  people,  that  it  revived  among  them  the  funeral  customs  for- 
merly practised,  and  perpetuated  them  to  our  day,  —  that  is  to 
say,  during  twenty-fom'  centuries,  through  all  the  revolutions, 
political  and  religious,  which  we  have  experienced." 

When  the  three  years  were  accomplished,  he  deposited  his 
mourning  garments  upon  the  tomb  of  his  mother,  and,  resuming 
his  intercourse  with  his  fellow-men,  consecrated  all  his  leisure 
to  meditation  upon  the  means  of  regenerating  the  Chinese  peo- 
ple, —  a  task  to  which,  it  is  said,  he  had  before  devoted  his  life. 
His  first  and  chief  endeavor  was  to  perfect  himself  in  wisdom 
and  virtue,  and  to  this  end  he  both  studied  and  travelled. 
Hearing  of  a  famous  lute-player  in  another  province,  who  could 
both  calm  and  excite  the  passions  of  man,  he  went  to  him  and 
became  one  of  his  pupils.  We  have  also  an  account  of  a  visit 
which  he  paid  to  a  celebrated  philosopher,  of  whom  he  asked  to 
be  instructed  in  his  doctrine.  The  philosopher  received  him 
coldly,  and  reproached  him  for  occupying  himself  too  much  with 
the  men  of  ancient  times,  long  since  returned  to  dust.  He  is 
reported  to  have  addressed  Confucius  thus  :  — 

"The  men  of  whom  you  speak  so  much  are  dead  and  gone ; 
their  bodies  and  their  bones  were  long  ago  consumed.  Nothing 
remains  of  them  except  their  maxims.  When  a  wise  man  finds 
himself  in  favorable  circumstances,  he  mounts  upon  a  chariot, 
by  which  I  mean,  he  is  advanced  to  honorable  posts.  When  the 
times  are  unfavorable  to  him,  he  does  the  best  he  can.  I  have 
heard  say  that  a  skilful  merchant  conceals  his  wealth  with  care 
and  goes  about  ^Dre tending  poverty.  So  the  wise  man,  the  man 
of  finished  virtue,  loves  to  carry  upon  his  countenance  the  ap- 
pearance of  stupidity.  Kenounce  pride,  and  the  multitude  of 
your  desires — lay  aside  these  fine  garments,  and  the  ambitious 


CONFUCIUS.  411 

schemes  Avliich  occupy  your  miucl ;  for  they  will  avail  you  iic  th- 
ing.    This  is  all  I  can  tell  you." 

To  these  remarks  Confucius  listened  with  an  appearance  of 
respect,  but  when  his  disciples  (for  he  already  had  disciples) 
asked  him  what  he  thought  of  this  philosopher,  he  answered  :  — ■ 

"  I  know  that  the  birds  fly  in  tlie  air ;  that  the  fish  SAvim ; 
that  the  quadrupeds  run.  Those  which  run  can  be  caught  with 
traps ;  those  which  swim,  with  the  line ;  those  which  fly,  with 
an  arrow.  As  to  the  dragon,  that  soars  to  heaven,  borne  by  the 
winds  and  clouds.  I  know  not  how  we  can  catch  him.  I  have 
to-day  seen  this  philosopher :  he  is  like  the  dragon." 

Eeturning  to  his  native  country  after  his  journey  in  search  of 
wisdom,  he  entered  seriously  upon  the  great  work  of  his  life, 
which  was  to  record  all  that  he  had  himself  learned  and  thought, 
as  well  as  all  which  he  considered  worthy  of  preservation  in  the 
works  of  the  ancients.  His  object  was  to  gather  and  to  arrange 
the  whole  wisdom  of  his  country  so  that  it  could  be  convenient- 
ly communicated  to  his  people  and  their  descendants  forever. 
To  this  labor  he  devoted  all  the  leisure  of  the  rest  of  his  life, 
and  h(  produced  a  series  of  works  upon  which  the  soul  of  China 
has  ever  since  subsisted,  and  which  do  really  contain  a  veiy 
pure  and  exalted  sj^stem  of  morals. 

Toward  the  fiftieth  year  of  his  age  he  was  appointed  by  one 
ot  the  kings  of  China  to  an  office  which  we  should  call  that  of 
prime  minister.  In  this  post,  we  are  assured,  he  reformed  the 
numerous  abuses  which  existed  in  every  branch  of  the  govern- 
ment, and  he  was  rewarded  at  length  by  being  appointed  the 
supreme  judge.  The  people,  it  is  said,  blessed  his  wisdom  and 
his  justice,  and  he  was  held  in  the  highest  honor,  as  well  by  the 
nobility  as  by  the  husbandmen.  A  great  crowd  of  disciples 
gathered  about  him,  who  assisted  him  in  the  composition  and 
the  multiplication  of  his  works. 

While  he  was  upon  a  journey  for  the  puqDose  of  making  some 
new  researches,  he  learned  the  death  of  his  wife,  and  the  news 
plunged  him  into  the  deepest  melancholy.  Upon  his  return 
home,  he  called  his  disciples  to  him,  and  told  them  that  the  days 
which  remained  to  him  of  life  were  counted,  and  that  he  had 


412  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

not  an  instant  to  lose  if  he  would  finish  the  work  which  he  had 
undertaken. 

In  his  seventy-third  year,  that  work  was  accomplished.  Once 
more  he  assembled  his  disciples,  and  ordered  them  to  set  up  an 
altar.  When  the  altar  was  ready,  he  solemnly  placed  upon  it 
the  whole  of  his  writings,  and  then,  prostrating  himself  upon 
the  ground,  he  remained  there  a  considerable  time,  designing 
to  thank  the  Supreme  Being  for  having  so  far  favored  him  that 
he  had  been  able  to  reconstruct  the  literature  of  his  country, 
and  leave  it  for  the  instruction  of  posterity  and  the  glory  of  the 
empire. 

Some  days  after  this  ceremony,  Confucius,  in  another  inter- 
view with  his  disciples,  told  them  that  he  was  conversing  with 
them  for  the  last  time,  and  mentioned  to  each  the  career  which 
he  thought  most  suitable  to  him.  His  strength  lessened  from 
day  to  day.  He  employed  his  last  hours  in  making  some  slight 
corrections  in  his  manuscripts,  to  render  them  more  worthy  of 
posterity.  He  sank  at  length  into  a  lethargy,  in  which  he  re- 
mained seven  days,  and  then  passed  away  without  pain,  — aged 
seventy-three  years. 

The  careful  manner  in  which  the  Chinese  record  their  history 
enables  us  to  place  considerable  confidence  in  the  truth  of  their 
statements  with  regard  to  this  great  man.  The  outline  which 
I  have  given  probably  bears  a  resemblance  to  the  truth ;  but, 
even  if  the  biographies  of  Confucius  are  fabulous,  his  works  re- 
main to  attest  by  their  kindliness  of  tone,  their  high  morality, 
and  their  excellent  sense,  that  Confucius  is  worthy  to  rank  with 
the  wisest  of  the  ancient  teachers  of  man. 

From  his  only  son  have  descended  a  numerous  posterity,  who 
constitute  a  separate  and  honorable  order  in  the  empire,  and 
enjoy  peculiar  privileges.  A  traveller,  who  visited  China  in 
1671,  computed  that  there  were  eleven  thousand  male  descend- 
ants of  Confucius  then  living,  most  of  whom  were  of  the  seventy- 
fourth  generation. 

The  writings  of  this  great  man  are,  as  I  have  before  remarked, 
the  Bible  of  the  Chinese.  They  are  even  more  than  that.  Every 
man  in  China  who  aspires  fio  the  public  service,  or  who  receives 
a  liberal  education,  derives  his  mental  culture  chiefly  from  thorn, 


CONFUCIUS.  413 

and  the  candidate  for  public  honors  undergoes  a  strict  examina 
tion  in  them.  In  every  city  of  the  empire  there  is  as  least  one 
temple  dedicated  to  Confucius,  upon  the  altar  of  which,  fruit, 
wine,  and  flowers  are  placed,  and  sweet-smelling  gums  are 
burned,  while  verses  are  chanted  in  his  honor.  Every  intelli- 
gent person  must  desire  to  know  something  of  the  works  of  a 
man  who  holds  this  high  place  in  the  affections  and  in  the  edu- 
cational system  of  one-third  of  the  human  race. 

His  works  are  five  in  number.  The  first  treats  of  what  we 
should  call  Moral  Philosophy  ;  the  second  contains  the  Historj^  of 
China,  and  a  statement  of  its  political  and  religious  institu- 
tions;  the  third,  called  the  "Book  of  Verses,"  maybe  styled 
the  psalm  and  hymn  book  of  the  Chinese ;  the  fourth  is  the  lit- 
urgy or  prayer-book;  the  fifth,  which  is  entitled  Spring  and 
Autumn,  contains  the  history  of  the  native  province  of  Confu- 
cius. It  must  not  be  supposed,  how^ever,  that  Confucius 
claims  these  works  as  his  o'wn. 

"The  doctrine,"  he  says,  "which  I  try  to  teach  is  only  that 
which  our  ancestors  taught,  and  which  they  have  transmitted  to 
us.  I  have  added  nothing  to  them,  and  taken  nothing  from 
them.  I  transmit  them  in  my  turn  in  their  original  purity. 
They  are  unchangeable.  Heaven  itself  is  their  author.  I  am, 
with  regard  to  them,  only  what  a  farmer  is  to  the  seed  which  he 
sows  :  he  casts  it  on  the  ground,  such  as  it  is ;  he  waters  it,  and 
gives  it  all  his  pains.  That  is  all  that  he  can  do  :  the  rest  is  not 
in  his  power." 

Nevertheless,  we  are  assured  by  Chinese  scholars  that  Con- 
fucius did  suppress  many  extravagances  in  the  ancient  writings, 
and  gave  to  the  whole  system  of  Chinese  morality  and  philoso- 
phy an  original  cast. 

Confucius  does  not  clearly  teach  the  existence  of  one  Supreme 
Being,  nor  does  he  attempt  to  explain  the  origin  of  things,  nor 
does  he  teach  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  He  says,  neverthe- 
less, that  there  exists  a  "Supreme  Reason,"  the  source  of  all 
things,  and  especially  the  source  of  the  reason  of  man.  "The 
holy  man,"  says  Confucius,  "the  wise  man,  establishes  his  doc- 
trine in  accordance  with  this  *  Supreme  Reason  ;*  he  has  a  pene- 
trating, efficacious  virtue,  by  which  he  puts  himself  in  harmony 


il4  PEOPLE'S     BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

with  it."  "The  heaven  and  the  earth,"  he  says,  "had  a  hegin- 
ning;  and  if  that  can  be  said  of  them,  how  much  more  truly  of 
man  !  After  there  was  a  heaven  and  an  earth,  all  material  things 
were  formed  ;  male  and  female  appeared,  man  and  woman."  In 
accordance  with  the  traditions  of  all  our  race,  Confucius  says 
that  "  man  was  originally  happy  and  pure,  and  that  through  his 
•own  fiiult  he  lost  his  happiness  and  purity."  He  also  teaches 
that,  "by  his  own  endeavors,  man  can  recover  his  lost  happiness 
and  virtue." 

His  fundamental  principle  is  this :  Man  has  received  from 
Heaven,  along  with  his  physical  existence,  a  principle  oi  moral 
life,  which  it  is  his  duty  to  cultivate  and  develop  to  the  utmost, 
in  order  to  arrive  at  a  perfect  conformity  to  the  celestial  and  di- 
vine Reason.  This  is  man's  business  on  earth  ;  and  the  object 
of  Confucius  was  to  aid  his  countrymen  in  accomplishing  it. 
"Every  man,"  he  says,  "knows  what  is  right,  or  may  know  it,  and 
the  law  of  rectitude  is  so  bindimi:  on  us  that  we  ousiht  not  to  de- 
part  from  it  in  a  single  point,  for  a  single  moment,  by  so  much 
as  the  thickness  of  a  hair."  "The  foundation  of  all  good,"  he 
repeats  a  hundred  times,  "is  the  virtue  of  individual  men.  With 
this  ever3^thing  begins,  and  for  this  every  good  institution  works." 
Every  man  who  aspires  to  direct  the  actions  of  others  should 
begin,  says  Confucius,  by  perfecting  himself,  and  it  is  only  in 
this  way  that  a  man  can  co-operate  with  the  Supreme  Reason, 
and  put  himself  in  harmony  with  the  universe.  The  only  men 
in  the  world,  he  says,  who  know  themselves  and  their  duties  to 
their  fellow-men,  are  those  in  whom  virtue  is  sovereign,  and 
who  are  constantly  seeking  it  as  the  sovereign  good. 

The  principal  virtues,  according  to  Confucius,  are  ^yq  in  num- 
ber :  Humanity,  Justice,  Order,  Sincerity,  and  Integrity ;  and 
of  these,  humanity,  the  love  of  our  kind,  is  the  first  and  funda- 
mental one.  Humanity  is  that  universal  charity  and  benevo- 
lence which  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  but  embraces  the  whole 
human  race.  This  virtue,  he  explains,  is  not  opposed  to  the 
punishment  of  the  guilty,  but  permits  us  to  have  recourse  to  war 
only  after  having  exhausted  all  the  means  of  conciliation.  It 
includes  justice,  conformity  to  the  ancient  usages,  and  perfect 
sincerity  and  good  faith  in  all  our  dealings  with  one  another.    It 


CONFUCIUS.  415 

is  a  part  of  it  to  respect  piil)lic  opinion ;  but  it  docs  not  oblioro 
us  to  conform  to  public  opinion  in  everything.  "There  aro 
cases,"  he  adds,  "in  which  a  man  must  go  directly  contrary  to 
public  opinion  ;  and  no  one  should  comply  with  the  customs  of 
his  country  except  so  far  as  they  are  right."  "Man,"  says  Con- 
fucius, "is  a  being  made  to  live  in  society ;  but  there  can  be  no 
society  without  government,  no  government  without  subordina- 
tion, no  subordination  without  superiority ;  and  legitimate  su- 
periority can  only  be  derived  either  from  age  or  merit.  The 
father  and  mother  naturally  rule  their  children ;  the  elder,  the 
younger;  and,  in  the  State,  those  men  naturally  rule  who  have 
a  commanding  mind,  and  know  how  to  win  the  affections  of  their 
fellow-men."  This  high  prerogative  belongs  to  but  ihw  of  the 
human  race,  and  it  consists  wholly  in  a  superior  humanity.  "To 
have  more  humanity  than  others  is  to  be  mo7'e  of  a  man  than 
they,  and  gives  one  a  right  to  command ! "  Again  and  again 
Confucius  says,  "humanity  is  the  foundation  of  all  virtue,  and 
is  itself  the  first  and  noblest  of  the  virtues." 

He  dwells  much  upon  the  loveliness  and  necessity  of  perfect 
sincerity.  "  It  is  this  alone,"  he  says,  "which  gives  value  to  our 
actions  and  constitutes  their  merit ;  without  it,  that  which  ap- 
pears virtue  is  only  hypocrisy  ;  which,  however  it  may  shine  and 
dazzle  the  beholder,  is  only  a  transient  flame  which  the  breath 
of  the  lightest  passion  instantly  extinguishes." 

Of  all  the  forms  of  humanity,  the  one  which  Confucius  con- 
siders most  important  is  filial  piety.  He  calls  it  "the  queen  of  all 
the  virtues,  the  sourceof  instruction,  the  eternal  law  of  Heaven, 
the  justice  of  the  earth,  the  support  of  authority,  the  chief  bond 
of  society,  and  the  test  of  all  merit."  Man,  he  assures  us,  is  tho 
noblest  being  in  the  universe,  and  filial  piety  is  the  grandest 
thing  in  man.  It  comprehends  three  great  classes  of  duties : 
those  which  we  owe  to  our  parents ;  those  which  are  due  to  the 
government ;  and  those  which  are  due  to  the  Supreme  Reason. 
It  is  as  binding  upon  the  emperor  as  upon  the  lowest  of  his  sub- 
jects. "We  owe  to  our  prince,"  says  Confucius,  "the  love 
which  we  have  for  our  mother  and  the  respect  w^e  feel  for  our 
father,  because  he  is  both  the  father  and  the  mother  of  his  sub- 
jects.    It  is  filial  piety  also  which  obliges  man  to  honor  and 


416       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

serve  the  celestial  power,  and  this  is  to  be  done  "by  the  acquisi- 
tion of  virtue."  "But,"  says  the  sage,  "however  great  may  be 
the  love  and  obedience  of  a  sou  toward  his  father,  or  a  subject 
toward  his  king,  it  never  ought  to  degenerate  into  servility; 
for  there  is  a  higher  law  than  that  of  either  a  father  or  a  king, 
the  law  of  the  Supreme  Reason." 

"Man,"  says  Confucius,  "is  a  being  apart,  in  whom  are 
united  the  qualities  of  all  the  other  beings.  He  is  the  universe 
in  miniature  ;  endowed  with  intelligence  and  liberty,  capable  of 
improvement  and  social  life,  he  can  discern,  compare,  and  act 
for  a  definite  end,  and  can  select  the  means  necessary  to  arrive 
at  that  end.  He  can  perfect  himself  or  deprave  himself,  accord- 
ing to  the  good  or  bad  use  which  he  makes  of  his  liberty.  He 
knows  what  is  wrong  and  what  is  right ;  he  knows  that  he  has 
duties  to  perform  toward  Heaven,  himself,  and  his  fellow-man. 
If  he  acquits  himself  of  these  different  duties,  he  is  virtuous,  and 
worthy  of  reward ;  if  he  neglects  them,  he  is  guilty,  and  de- 
serves punishment." 

He  divides  men  into  five  classes  with  regard  to  their  moral 
worth. 

The  first  and  most  numerous  class  comprehends  the  great 
mass  of  mankind,  who  are  commendable  for  no  particular  excel- 
lence, who  speak  only  for  the  sake  of  speaking,  without  consid- 
ering whether  they  speak  well  or  ill,  or  whether  they  ought  to 
speak  at  all ;  who  act  only  by  instinct  and  routine  ;  who  have  an 
understanding,  like  other  men,  but  an  understanding  which  does 
not  go  beyond  the  eyes,  ears,  and  mouth.  These  are  "  the 
Vulgar." 

The  second  class  is  composed  of  those  who  are  instructed  in 
science,  in  literature,  and  in  the  arts ;  who  propose  to  them- 
selves distinct  objects,  and  know  the  different  means  by  which 
they  can  be  obtained ;  who,  without  having  penetrated  deeplj- 
into  things,  know  enough  of  them  to  give  instruction  to  others, 
and  to  live  a  life  conformed  to  the  established  forms  and  usages. 
This  class  of  men  he  styles  "the  Educated." 

The  third  class  are  they  who,  in  their  words,  their  actions, 
and  in  the  general  conduct  of  their  lives  never  depart  from  the 
line  of  strict  rectitude  ;  who  do  right  because  it  is  right ;  whose 


CONFUCIUS.  417 

passions  arc  siibctiicd ;  who  attach  themselves  to  notliing;  who 
arc  always  the  same,  both  in  adversity  and  prosperity  ;  wlio 
speak  when  they  ought  to  speak,  and  are  silent  when  they  ought 
to  be  silent,  having  firmness  enough  not  to  conceal  their  senti- 
ments when  it  is  proper  to  nttcr  them,  though  they  should  lose 
thereby  their  fortunes  or  their  lives ;  who  despise  no  one,  nor 
prefer  themselves  to  others ;  who  are  not  content  to  derive  their 
knowledge  from  ordinary  sources,  but  push  their  investigations 
to  the  fountain-head,  so  as  to  free  their  knowledge  from  all  mix- 
ture of  error;  not  discouraged  when  they  fail,  nor  proud  when 
they  succeed.     These  are  "the  Philosophers." 

The  fourth  class  consists  of  men  who  never  depart  from  the 
just  medium^  —  who  have  fixed  rules  of  conduct  and  manners 
from  which  they  never  depart ;  who  fulfil  with  perfect  exactness 
and  a  constancy  always  equal  the  least  of  their  duties ;  who  re- 
press their  passions  and  watch  over  all  their  words  and  acts ; 
who  fear  neither  labor  nor  pain  in  bringing  back  to  their  duty 
those  who  have  wandered  from  it,  in  instructing  the  ignorant, 
and  in  rendering  to  all  men  any  services  in  their  power  without 
distinction  of  poor  or  rich,  expecting  no  reward,  and  not  even 
asking  the  gratitude  of  those  whom  they  have  served.  These 
are  "  the  Virtuous." 

The  fifth  class  is  composed  of  the  few  men  who,  besides  being 
virtuous,  are  endowed  by  nature  with  extraordinary  and  beau- 
tiful gifts ;  who  are  lovely  in  their  persons  and  manners  as  in 
their  conduct ;  who  have  acquired  by  long  practice  the  habit  of 
fulfilling,  without  any  efibrt  and  even  with  joy,  all  the  duties 
which  nature  and  morality  impose ;  who  bless  every  creature 
within  their  reach,  and,  like  heaven  and  earth,  never  discontinue 
their  beneficent  labors,  but  go  on  their  course  imperturbable  and 
unvarying,  like  the  sun  and  moon.  These  men,  precious,  but 
few  in  number,  are  "the  Perfect." 

"Marriage, "says  Confucius,  "is  the  proper  condition  of  man, 
and  the  means  by  which  he  fulfils  his  destiny  upon  earth.  Man 
is  the  head, — he  should  command  ;  woman  is  the  subject,  —  she 
ought  to  obey.  Husband'  and  wife  should  be  like  heaven  and 
earth,  which  concur  equally  in  the  production  and  support  of  all 
things.     Mutual  tenderness,  mutual  confidence,  mutual  res^ject, 

27 


418  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OP     BIOGRAPHY 

purity,  and  propriety  should  be  the  base  of  their  conduct."  He 
permits  divorce  for  any  one  of  seven  reasons  :  "  When  a  woman 
cannot  live  in  peace  with  her  father-in-law  or  mother-in-law ; 
when  she  cannot  bear  children ;  when  she  is  unfaithful ;  when, 
by  the  utterance  of  calumnies  or  indiscreet  words,  she  disturbs 
the  peace  of  the  house  ;  when  her  husband  has  for  her  an  uncon- 
querable repugnance ;  when  she  is  an  inveterate  scold ;  when 
she  steals  anything  from  her  husband's  house ; "  in  any  of  these 
cases  her  husband  may  put  her  away. 

"Government,"  he  says,  "is  only  an  extension  of  the  paternal 
authority,  and  the  great  object  of  government  is  the  promotion 
of  that  private  virtue  which  is  the  great  source  of  all  happiness 
and  good."  "^Nowhere,"  says  a  Chinese  scholar,  "are  the  rights 
and  duties  of  kings  and  peoples  taught  in  a  manner  so  elevated 
and  reasonable  as  in  the  writings  of  the  Chinese  philosopher, 
who  everywhere  maintains  that  the  welfare  of  the  people  is  the 
Supreme  Law.'* 

Toward  the  close  of  his  life,  one  of  his  disciples  asked  him  if 
there  was  not  some  one  maxim  which  would  guide  a  man  aright 
in  all  circumstances,  and  which  could  be  regarded  as  the  essence 
or  summary  of  all  morals.  The  sage  said  there  was,  and  gave  it 
thus : — 

"  Do  TO  OTHERS  AS  YOU  WOULD  HAVE  OTHERS  DO  TO  YOU." 

Such  are  some  of  the  leading  ideas  and  opinions  of  Confucius. 
If  any  one  should  ask  why  the  Chinese,  who  have  for  twenty- 
four  centuries  possessed  his  writings,  should  be  no  better  than 
they  are,  I  would  reply  by  asking  another  question  :  Why  are  we 
no  better,  who  have  enjo^/ed  more  numerous  and  pwer  lights? 


THE    TWO    CAT08.  4l9 


THE   TWO   CATOS. 


In  the  history  of  Eorae  we  find  eleven  persons  of  some  note 
who  are  called  Cato,  two  of  whom  .were  men  of  very  great  em- 
inence. The  w^ord  Cato,  however,  was  only  a  snrname,  derived 
from  a  Latin  word  which  signifies  loise,  and  which,  being  ap- 
plied to  the  founder  of  the  family,  was  adopted  by  his  descend- 
ants for  many  generations.  The  first  and  greatest  of  the  Catos 
was  really  named  Marcus  Porcius,  and  to  distinguish  him  from 
his  descendants,  he  is  sometimes  called  Cato  the  First,  or  the 
Ancient,  sometimes  Cato  Major,  but,  most  commonly,  Cato  the 
Censor,  from  the  title  of  the  office  in  which  he  was  most  distin- 
guished. It  is  especially  necessary  not  to  confound  this  ancient 
Cato  with  his  grandson,  Cato  "the  Philosopher,"  who  put  an 
end  to  his  own  existence  after  the  death  of  his  commander, 
Pompey,  and  who  is  the  hero  of  Addison's  "Tragedy  of  Cato." 

Cato  the  Censor  was  born  two  hundred  and  thirty-two  years 
before  Christ.  While  confessing  that  his  ancestors  were  of  no 
rank  in  the  State,  he  boasts  that  his  grandfather  had  ^yq  horses 
killed  under  him  in  battle,  and  that  his  father  Avas  also  a  brave 
and  excellent  soldier.  Having  inherited  from  his  fixther  a  farm 
and  some  slaves,  he  labored  with  them  in  cultivating  his  land, 
and  lived  so  frugally  and  austerely  as  to  attract  the  notice  and 
win  the  respect  of  his  neighbors.  When  he  was  seventeen  j^ears 
of  age,  Hannibal  was  in  Italy  with  his  triumphant  army,  threat- 
ening Rome  itself,  and  young  Cato  joined  the  forces,  who,  under 
the  prudent  command  of  Fabius,  were  opposing  and  tiring  out 
the  impetuous  Carthaginians.  In  the  army  he  distinguished 
himself  as  much  by  the  severity  of  his  manners  as  b}^  his  valor 
in  battle.  He  always  marched  on  foot,  carried  his  own  arms, 
and  w^as  attended  but  by  one  servant  laden  with  provisions.    His 


420  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

usual  drink  was  water,  and  lie  assisted  his  servant  in  the  prepa 
ration  of  their  food.  When  he  had  served  his  country  in  the 
field  for  five  years,  and  Italy  was  no  longer  trodden  by  a  hostile 
foot,  he  Avent  back  to  his  farm  and  enfjaojed  once  more  in  the 
labors  of  agriculture.  He  was  accustomed  to  conciliate  the  dis- 
putes of  his  neighbors,  and  to  plead  their  causes  without  reward 
in  the  country  courts,  and  was  frequently  successful,  either  as 
an  arbiter  or  as  an  advocate,  in  bringing  troublesome  litigations 
to  a  happy  conclusion. 

Near  Cato's  farm-house  there  was  the  mansion  of  a  powerful 
young  nobleman,  named  Valerius  Flaccus,  a  man  of  much  be- 
nevolence, and  a  noted  patron  of  obscure  genius.  This  noble- 
man often  heard  his  servants  speak  of  a  farmer  in  the  vicinity 
who  used  to  go  to  the  little  country  towns  and  defend  the  causes 
of  the  poor ;  who  labored  upon  his  farm  in  a  coarse  frock  in 
winter,  and  naked  in  summer,  and  who  sat  down  with  his  slaves 
and  ate  the  same  kind  of  bread  and  drank  the  same  Avine  as 
they  did.  Various  witty  sayings  of  Cato  were  also  reported  to 
Valerius  Flaccus,  which  further  excited  his  curiosity ;  and  at 
length  he  invited  Cato  to  dinner.  The  acquaintance  thus  begun 
ripened  into  an  intimate  friendship,  and  Valerius  strongly  urged 
Cato  to  go  to  Rome  and  apply  himself  to  politics.  This  advice 
was  taken,  and  Cato  went  to  the  capital,  and  adopted  what  we 
should  call  the  profession  of  a  lawyer.  He  pleaded  causes  be- 
fore the  public  tribunals,  in  which  he  won  great  distinction,  and 
w^as  soon  drawn  into  public  life.  During  the  later  wars  with 
Hannibal  he  served  as  an  officer  under  Fabius,  won  great  dis- 
tinction in  battle,  and  lived  on  terms  of  friendship  with  the 
general  in  command.  Being  once  sent  as  questor  to  Scipio,  who 
was  organizing  a  Roman  army  in  Sicily  for  the  invasion  of  Af- 
rica, he  dared  to  rebuke  that  able  and  popular  general  for  his 
extravagance.     He  said  to  Scipio  :  — 

"  It  is  not  the  Avaste  of  the  public  money  which  is  the  greatest 
evil,  but  the  consequences  of  that  expense  in  corrupting  the  an- 
cient simplicity  of  the  soldiers,  who,  when  they  have  more 
money  than  they  need,  are  sure  to  spend  it  in  luxury  and  riot." 

Scipio  haughtily  replied  that  he  had  no  need  of  an  exact  and 
frugal  treasurer  in   his   camp,   because   his   country   expected 


THE    TWO'CATOS.      "  421 

of  him  an  account  of  services  performed,  not  of  money  ex- 
pended. 

Upon  receiving  this  reply,  Cato  returned  to  Rome,  and  loudly 
complained  to  the  Senate  of  Scipio's  gayety  and  profusion. 

"He  walks  about,"  said  Cato,  "in  his  cloak  and  slippers,  and 
lets  his  soldiers  do  as  they  like.  He  passes  his  time  in  wrest- 
lin<]f  rinirs  and  theatres,  as  thou2:h  he  had  been  sent  out  to 
exhibit  games  and  shows,  not  to  make  war." 

Commissioners  were  despatched  to  Scipio's  arm}^  to  inquire 
into  the  truth  of  these  charges,  but  Scipio  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing them  that  he  understood  his  business  better  than  Cato, 
and  sent  them  home  satisfied  with  his  conduct. 

Before  he  was  forty  years  of  age  Cato  was  elected  to  the 
consulship,  the  highest  office  in  the  State,  and  his  associate  con- 
sul was  that  very  Valerius  Flaccus  who  had  recommended  him 
to  try  his  fortune  at  the  capital.  As  consul,  he  commanded 
Roman  armies,  added  conquests  to  the  empire,  and,  returning 
from  a  successful  campaign  in  Spain,  was  rewarded  with  a  tri- 
umph. Twelve  years  later  we  find,  him  in  the  office  of  Censor, 
and  a!2:ain  associated  with  Valerius  Flaccus.  In  this  office  he 
waged  ceaseless  war  upon  the  luxury  of  the  rich,  by  imposing 
heavy  taxes  upon  costly  apparel,  carriages,  ornaments,  and 
utensils.  He  cut  off  the  supply  of  water  from  those  who  had 
fountains  and  ponds  in  their  gardens,  and  in  every  way  flattered 
the  poor  by  making  himself  odious  to  the  rich.  Instead,  how- 
ever, of  relating  the  actions  of  Cato,  it  will  be  more  interesting 
to  give  some  specimens  of  his  sayings. 

When  the  Romans  were  clamoring,  at  a  time  of  scarcity,  for 
a  distribution  of  corn  at  the  public  expense,  he  began  a  speech 
in  opposition  to  it  thus :  "It  is  hard,  fellow-citizens,  to  address 
the  stomach,  because  it  has  no  ears." 

Rebuking  the  Romans  for  their  luxury,  he  said  :  "It  is  diffi- 
cult to  save  a  city  from  ruin  where  a  fish  brings  a  higher  price 
than  an  ox." 

Pointing  to  a  man  who  had  squandered  an  estate  near  the  sea, 
he  pretended  to  admire  him,  saying  :  "What  the  sea  could  not 
swallow  without  great  difficulty,  this  man  has  gulped  down  with 
perfect  ease." 


422  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Being  rebuked  for  not  visiting  a  king  who  was  visiting  Rome, 
he  said :  "  I  look  upon  a  king  as  a  creature  that  feeds  upon 
human  flesh,  and  of  all  the  kings  that  have  been  so  much  cried 
up,  I  find  none  to  be  compared  with  Epaminondas,  Pericles,  or 
Themistocles." 

The  following  is  one  of  his  most  famous  sayings :  "  Wise 
men  learn  more  from  fools  than  fools  learn  from  wise  men ;  for 
the  wise  avoid  the  errors  of  fools,  but  fools  do  not  profit  by  the 
example  of  the  wise." 

"I  do  not  like,"  he  said  once,  "a  soldier  who  moves  his  hands 
when  he  marches,  and  his  feet  when  he  fights,  and  who  snores 
louder  in  bed  than  he  shouts  in  battle." 

His  friendship  being  sought  by  an  epicure,  he  replied  :  "No  ; 
I  cannot  live  with  a  man  whose  palate  is  more  sensitive  than  his 
heart." 

He  said  once  that  in  the  whole  of  his  life  he  had  never  re- 
pented but  of  three  things:  "first,  trusting  a  woman  with  a 
secret ;  second,  going  by  sea  when  he  might  have  gone  by  laud ; 
third,  passing  a  day  without  having  his  will  in  his  possession." 

To  a  debauched  old  man  he  said :  "  Old  aofe  has  deformities 
enough  of  its  own ;  do  not  add  to  it  the  deformity  of  vice." 

One  of  his  sayings  has  exposed  him  to  just  censure;  **A 
master  of  a  family  should  sell  off  his  old  oxen,  and  all  his  cattle 
that  are  of  a  delicate  frame,  all  his  sheep  that  are  not  hardy ; 
he  should  sell  his  old  wagons,  and  his  old  implements  ;  he  should 
sell  such  of  his  slaves  as  are  old  and  infirm^  and  everything  else 
that  is  old  and  useless."  Alluding  to  this  passage,  the  amiable 
Plutarch  becomes  properly  indignant,  and  says  :  "  For  my  own 
part,  I  would  not  sell  even  an  old  ox  that  had  labored  for  me ; 
much  less  would  I  remove,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  money,  a  man, 
grown  old  in  my  service,  from  his  usual  place  and  diet ;  for  to 
him,  poor  man,  it  would  be  as  bad  as  banishment,  since  he 
could  be  of  no  more  use  to  the  buyer  than  he  was  to  the 
seller." 

The  truth  about  Cato  appears  to  be  that  he  was  more  vain  of 
his  virtue  than  virtuous.  He  was  a  most  extravagant  and 
shameless  boaster,  and  had  more  talent  to  utter  fine  sayings 
than  to  perform  actions  truly  praiseworthy.     He  tells  us  him- 


THE    TWO    CATOS.  423 

self  that  tlic  senate,  in  difficult  and  dangerous  times,  used  to 
cast  their  eyes  upon  him  as  passengers  do  upon  the  pilot  in  a 
Btorm.  And  he  once  spoke  of  some  blunderers  in  this  way  : 
"They  are  excusable  ;  they  arc  not  Catos." 

In  his  old  age  he  became  exceedingly  avaricious,  and  gained 
a  large  fortune  by  methods  which  were  legal,  but  not  very 
honorable.  He  even  uttered  this  sentiment :  ''That  man  truly 
wonderful  and  godlike,  and  fit  to  be  registered  in  the  lists  of 
glory,  is  he  by  whose  account-books  it  shall  appear,  after  his 
death,  that  he  had  more  than  doubled  what  he  had  received 
from  his  ancestors." 

He  retained  his  bodily  strength  to  a  very  great  age.  When 
he  was  past  eighty  years  he  called  one  morning  upon  a  man 
who  had  formerly  been  his  secretary,  and  asked  him  whether 
he  had  yet  provided  a  husband  for  his  daughter. 

"I  have  not,"  was  the  reply;  "nor  shall  I  without  consulting 
my  best  friend." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Cato,  "I  have  found  out  a  very  fit  husband 
for  her,  if  she  can  put  up  with  an  old  man  who,  in  other  re- 
spects, is  a  very  good  match  for  her." 

"I  leave  the  disposal  of  her,"  said  the  flither,  " entirely  to 
you.  She  is  under  your  protection,  and  depends  wholly  upon 
your  bounty." 

"Then,"  said  Cato,  "I  will  be  your  son-in-law." 

The  astonished  parent  gave  his  consent,  and  Cato  announced 
his  intention  to  his  son,  who  was  himself  a  married  man. 

"Why,  what  have  I  done,"  said  the  son,  "that  I  should  have 
a  mother-in-law  put  upon  me  ?  " 

"I  am  only  desirous,"  replied  Cato,  "of  having  more  such 
sons  as  you,  and  leaving  more  such  citizens  to  my  country." 

By  this  wife,  who  w^as  little  more  than  a  girl,  he  actually  had 
a  son,  w^ho  himself  became  consul  of  Eome,  and  was  the  father 
of  the  other  famous  Cato,  the  enemy  of  Cnesar. 

It  was  Cato  who  urged  the  Romans  never  to  cease  warring 
upon  Carthage  until  it  was  totally  destroyed.  For  many  years, 
it  is  said,  he  never  spoke  in  the  senate  on  any  subject  whatever, 
"without  concluding  his  speech  thus  ;  — 

"And  my  opinion  is,  that  Carthage  should  be  destroyed." 


424  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

The  leader  of  the  opposite  party  in  the  senate  concluded 

every  speech  by  saying  :  — 

"And  my  opinion  is,  that  Carthage  should  be  left  standing.'* 
Cato,  it  appears,  had  an  ill-ftivored  countenance  ;  so,  at  least, 

his  enemies  said,  one  of  whom  wrote  upon  him  the  following 

epigram :  — 

"  With  eyes  so  gray  and  hair  so  red, 
With  tusks  so  sharp  and  keen, 
Thou'lt  fright  the  shades  when  thou  art  dead, 
And  hell  won't  let  thee  in." 

Cato,  called  the  Philosopher,  who  is  sometimes  styled  Cato 
of  Utica,  because  it  was  at  Utica  that  he  killed  himself,  was 
born  ninety-five  years  before  Christ,  and  showed  in  his  youth 
the  austerity  of  character  which  had  distinguished  his  illustrious 
ancestor.  Like  all  Romans  of  rank,  he  served  in  the  army, 
and  won  considerable  renown  in  suppressing  the  insurrection 
of  the  slaves,  which  was  excited  and  led  by  the  gladiator  Spar- 
tacus. 

Like  the  ancient  Cato,  he  disdained  the  luxuries  usually 
enjoyed  by  officers  of  rank.  He  refused  the  rewards  for  his 
valor  offered  him  by  his  commander,  and  appeared  upon  the 
march  in  a  dress  which  differed  little  from  that  of  a  private. 
When  the  liberties  of  Rome  were  threatened  by  Caesar,  he  took 
service  under  Pompey ;  and  after  his  general  was  slain,  and 
Caesar  was  master  of  Rome,  he  thought  it  unbecoming  a  Roman 
citizen  to  continue  to  live.  He  carried  out  his  suicidal  inten- 
tion with  singular  calmness  and  resolution.  After  supping 
cheerfully  with  several  of  his  friends,  he  went  into  his  room, 
where  he  embraced  his  son  with  such  unusual  tenderness  as  to 
awaken  the  suspicion  that  he  intended  to  terminate  his  life. 
He  lay  down  upon  his  bed  and  read  for  a  while  Plato's  Dialogue 
upon  the  Immortality  of  the  SouL  When  he  had  finished  read- 
ing, he  looked  round,  and  observed  that  his  sword  had  been 
taken  away.  He  called  for  it ;  and  when  his  son  and  friends 
rushed  into  the  room  in  tears,  Cato  cried  out :  — 

"How  long  is  it  since  I  have  lost  my  senses,  and  my  son  is 
become  my  keeper?    Brave  and  generous  son,  why  do  you  not 


THE    TWO    CATOS.  425 

bind  your  fcitlicr's  hands,  that  wlien  Caesar  comes  he  ma}^  fnid 
me  unable  to  defend  m3'self  ?  Do  you  imagine  that  without  a 
sword  I  cannot  end  my  life?  Cannot  I  destroy  myself  by 
holding  my  breath  for  some  moments,  or  by  striking  my  head 
against  the  wall  ?  " 

His  son  made  no  reply,  but  retired  weeping,  and  the  sword 
was  at  length  sent  in  to  him  by  a  slave. 

"Now,"  said  Cato,  as  he  drew  it,  "I  am  my  own  master." 

When  he  found  himself  alone,  he  again  took  up  his  book, 
and  w^hen  he  had  once  more  read  the  dialogue,  he  lay  down  and 
slept.  Toward  the  dawn  of  day  he  took  his  sword  and  pressed 
the  point  into  his  body  a  little  below  the  chest,  inflicting  an 
extensive,  but,  as  it  appeared,  not  fatal  wound.  As  he  fell  he 
overturned  a  table,  the  noise  of  which  gave  the  alarm.  He  was 
found  insensible,  welter.ng  in  his  blood,  with  his  bowels  pro- 
trudins:  from  the  wound. 

While  the  surgeon  was  replacing  the  uncut  bowels,  Cato 
recovered  his  consciousness,  thrust  the  surgeon  from  him,  tore 
out  his  bowels  with  his  hands,  and  immediately  expired.  Thus 
perished  Cato,  miscalled  the  Philosopher,  in  the  forty-eighth 
year  of  his  age. 


426  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 


PETER   THE  GREAT. 


About  the  year  1683,  a  young  man  named  Francis  Le  Fort, 
a  native  of  Switzerland,  found  himself,  after  many  adventures, 
in  the  city  of  Moscow,  in  the  military  service  of  Russia.  He 
was  a  highly  educated  person,  spoke  several  languages,  was 
well  versed  in  military  science,  and  possessed  the  accomplish- 
ments of  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier.  He  was,  in  truth,  an 
eminently  civilized,  humane,  and  virtuous  man. 

There  were  then  living  in  one  of  the  palaces  of  Moscow  two 
boys,  one  thirteen  years  old,  the  other  eleven,  who  had  been 
recently  crowned  joint  Emperors  of  Russia,  and  were  living 
mider  the  regency  of  their  sister,  the  Princess  Sophia,  awaiting 
the  time  w^hen  they  should  be  old  enough  to  reign.  Ivan  (or 
John)  was  the  name  of  the  elder  of  these  boys,  and  the  younger 
was  named  Peter,  now  universally  known  as  Peter  the  Great. 
The  true  heir  to  the  throne  was  Ivan ;  but  he  w^as  half  an  idiot, 
and  it  was  deemed  best  to  associate  with  him  his  younger 
brother,  a  lad  of  excellent  promise. 

The  education,  however,  of  this  boy,  Peter,  the  destined 
monarch  of  a  prodigious  empire,  was  almost  totally  neglected. 
Russia  did  not  much  value  knowledge  at  that  time,  but  Peter 
was  even  more  ignorant  than  was  usual  with  Russian  boys  of 
high  rank,  for  his  sister  Sophia,  an  ambitious  and  bad  woman, 
purposely  kept  him  in  ignorance,  that  she  might  the  more  easily 
retain  an  ascendency  over  him,  and  over  Russia  through  him. 
Notwithstanding  this,  he  had  picked  up  a  little  knowledge,  since 
he  had  that  sure  sign  of  intellect  which  we  call  curiosity.  He 
was  a  great  asker  of  questions,  fond  of  looking  on  while  work 
was  doing,  and  of  trying  his  own  hand  at  it. 

While  he  was  thus  living  in  retirement,  —  a  boy  czar,  passing 


PETER    THE    GREAT.  427 

his  time  in  amusements  suited  to  his  age,  —  he  noticed  the  young 
officer,  Le  Fort,  who  was  frequently  on  duty  about  the  imperial 
palaces.  The  appearance  and  manners  of  Lo  Fort  were  as 
pleasing  as  his  character  was  superior,  and  the  young  emperor 
was  so  strongly  attracted  by  him  that  he  caused  him  to  be 
attached  to  his  own  household,  and  became  his  inseparable  com- 
panion. 

The  favorite  of  a  monarch  usually  becomes  such,  and  usually 
retains  his  influence,  by  flattering  his  master's  worst  propensities. 
Le  Fort,  on  the  contrary,  won  the  confidence  of  Peter,  and 
kept  it,  by  being  his  true  friend,  by  instructing  his  ignorance, 
awakening  his  nobler  ambition,  and  restraining  his  evil  passions. 
He  told  the  young  czar  of  courts  that  were  not  barbarous ;  of 
kings  who  lived  for  their  country's  good ;  of  nations  where 
knowledge  and  the  ai-ts  were  held  in  honor ;  of  peoples  who 
were  polite  and  humane.  He  showed  him  that  Eussia  Avas  be- 
hind all  the  Christian  countries  of  Europe  in  civilization,  and 
assured  him  that  the  greatness  of  a  country  does  not  consist 
either  in  the  extent  of  its  territory  or  the  number  of  its  people. 
He  taught  him  something  of  history,  the  rudiments  of  science, 
the  elements  of  language ;  but,  above  all,  he  lifted  him  up  high 
out  of  the  depths  of  Russian  pride  and  exclusiveness,  and 
showed  him  the  inferiority  of  his  country  in  all  that  constitutes 
the  true  glory  of  a  nation.  He  formed  a  class  of  fifty  young 
Russian  nobles  into  a  kind  of  military  school,  and  they  all 
studied,  drilled,  and  played  together.  The  seed  sown  by  Cap- 
tain Le  Fort  fell  into  ground  prepared  to  receive  it.  Both  the 
father  and  the  grandfather  of  Peter  had  desired  and  endeavored 
to  raise  Russia  in  the  scale  of  civilization,  and  this  boy  inherited 
from  them  the  same  desire,  with  better  means  of  carrying  it 
into  effect. 

The  Princess  Sophia,  meanwhile,  governed  the  empire  with 
absolute  sway.  She  understood  nothing  of  what  was  going  on 
in  the  palace  of  the  young  czars.  Seeing  them  drilling  and 
sporting  with  their  youthful  companions,  under  the  direction  of 
a  young  foreigner,  a  person  of  no  importance,  she  thought  they 
were  merely  amusing  themselves.  She  supposed,  too,  that 
when  the}^  had  outgrown  these  boyish  games,  the  vigorous  and 


428  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

jtrnorant  Peter  would  abandon  himself  to  the  brutal  vices  so 
common,  at  that  day,  in  the  courts  of  kings,  and  leave  the  caro 
of  governing  Russia  to  her. 

Six  years  passed.  Peter  was  a  young  man  of  seventeen. 
Not  free  from  tlie  vices  of  his  age  and  country,  he  had  never- 
theless become,  by  the  aid  of  Francis  Le  Fort,  an  intelligent, 
inquiring,  and,  upon  tlie  whole,  estimable  prince,  and  truly 
intent  to  employ  his  power  in  improving  his  country.  A  trifling 
incident  now  revealed  to  him  the  ambition  of  his  sister  Sophia, 
and  induced  him  to  assert,  sooner  than  he  otherwise  would,  the 
rights  of  his  birth.  Peter's  mother,  anxious  to  preserve  him 
from  an  irregular  life,  caused  him  to  be  married  at  the  age  of 
seventeen,  and  the  Princess  Sophia  appeared  at  the  wedding 
wearing  the  insignia  of  absolute  power.  Not  the  young  czar 
only,  but  all  his  friends,  marked  the  presumption  of  the  regent, 
and  measures  were  promptl}^  concerted  between  them  to  termi- 
nate the  regency,  and  shut  up  the  ambitious  lady  in  a  convent. 
Le  Fort  was  the  czar's  chief  adviser,  and  he  was  aided  bv  other 
foreigners,  as  well  as  by  the  party  in  Russia  who  were  most 
disposed  to  reform. 

The  struggle  was  severe,  but  short.  Sophia  had  her  ad- 
herents among  the  militia,  the  priesthood,  and  the  nobility ;  but 
nothing  availed  against  the  energy,  the  talents,  and  the  popu- 
larity of  the  youthful  Peter.  In  October,  1789,  when  he  was 
little  more  than  seventeen,  he  entered  Moscow  in  triumph,  with 
his  brother  at  his  side  ;  and  Sophia  was  consigned  to  a  convent, 
where  she  spent  many  years  in  intriguing  to  regain  her  liberty 
and  power. 

Russia  had  then  two  emperors  in  name,  but  only  one  in 
reality.  Ivan,  conscious  of  his  inability  to  rule,  gave  up  all 
authority  to  Peter ;  and  Peter,  on  his  part,  treated  Ivan  with 
the  utmost  kindness  and  respect,  until  his  brother's  early  death 
left  him  sole  sovereign  of  the  empire.  Le  Fort  was  raised  by 
his  grateful  pupil  to  the  highest  dignities  which  a  subject  can 
fill,  and  he  continued  the  chief  and  most  trusted  counsellor  of 
Peter  as  long  as  he  lived.  Russian  historians  agree  that  he 
made  a  noble  nse  of  his  power.     In  all  the  czar's  good  designs 


PETER    THE    GREAT.  429 

he  was  a  powerful  and  wise  co-operator,  without  ever  abetting 
him  in  his  violence  and  severity. 

Peter  reigned  over  Russia  thirty-six  years.  During  the  first 
few  years  of  his  reign  he  devoted  his  chief  attention  to  gaining 
knowledge,  and  to  maturing  the  vast  plans  which  he  had  con- 
ceived for  the  regeneration  of  his  empire.  When  he  began  to 
rule  in  earnest,  his  first  care  was  to  create  a  regular  army,  which 
should  take  the  place  of  a  turbulent  and  undisciplined  militia, 
that  had  often  plunged  the  country  into  anarchy.  This  was  a 
work  of  many  years ;  but  he  accomplished  it  at  last ;  and  when 
the  militia  rose  in  revolt  against  his  measures,  he  Avas  able,  not 
merely  to  subdue,  but  to  disband  them  forever.  lie  next 
turned  his  attention  to  the  creation  of  a  navy.  His  father,  iu 
pursuance  of  the  same  design,  had  caused  one  ship  to  be  built 
for  him  in  Holland  ;  but  that  one  ship,  the  whole  navy  of  Russia, 
had  been  burnt,  and  in  all  the  empire  there  were  but  two  men 
capable  of  navigating  a  ship.  Peter  sought  out  these  two  men, 
one  of  whom  proved  to  be  a  man  of  great  ability ;  and  him  the 
czar  promoted  to  the  post  of  chief  constructor.  AYorkmen 
were  brought  from  Holland  ;  a  navy  yard  Avas  established ;  and 
soon  the  first  vessel  was  launched. 

It  so  happened  that  Peter  was  one  of  those  persons  who  are 
easily  made  sea-sick,  and  he  had  also  inherited  a  morbid  dread 
of  the  ocean.  But,  as  it  was  a  principle  with  him  to  do  himself 
everything  that  he  required  of  others,  he  made  a  sea  voyage  in 
the  first  of  his  ships  that  was  finished,  —  in  the  course  of  which 
he  completely  overcame  these  weaknesses,  and  became  a  very 
tolerable  navigator.  By  the  time  he  had  his  army  and  fleet  in 
readiness  he  had  use  for  them  in  a  war  w^ith  the  Turks,  in 
which  he  experienced  many  disasters.  This  man,  however,  was 
one  of  those  whom  disasters  instruct,  but  never  dishearten ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  had  made  an  advantageous  peace,  he  was 
more  eager  than  ever  to  carry  on  the  work  of  reform.  Fifty 
intelligent  young  noblemen  he  sent  to  study  in  foreign  countries  ; 
and,  at  length,  he  resolved  to  go  himself  to  Holland,  England, 
and  Italy,  to  acquire  a  better  knowledge  of  the  mechanic  arts. 

He  was  twenty -five  years  of  age  ;  tall,  strongly  built,  of  fresh 
complexion,  and  of  very  easy,  familiar  manners,  though  in  his 


430  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

mien  and  bearing  "  every  inch  a  king."  Le  Fort,  his  old  tutor, 
and  now  his  Lord  High  Admiral,  accompanied  him.  The  czar, 
on  this  occasion,  travelled  incognito,  passing  as  a  mere  member 
of  a  grand  embassy,  which  was  composed  of  three  ambassadors 
(Le  Fort  was  one  of  them),  four  chief  secretaries,  twelve  gen- 
tlemen, six  pages,  one  company  of  the  imperial  guards,  fifty  in 
number,  and  several  servants ;  the  whole  cortege  numbering 
two  hundred  and  fifteen  persons.  Li  this  company  the  czar  was 
nothing  but  an  attache,  and  was  attended  only  by  one  valet,  one 
footman,  and  a  dwarf  w^ith  whom  he  used  to  amuse  himself.  I 
need  not  dwell  upon  this  memorable  journey  of  a  year  and  a 
half.  "Who  does  not  know  that  the  czar  labored  with  his  own 
hands  at  Amsterdam  as  a  ship  carpenter,  and  that  he  travelled 
over  half  of  Europe,  visiting  workshops,  factories,  hospitals, 
and  everything  which  could  instruct  a  monarch  of  such  a 
country  as  Russia  was  in  1697? 

He  practised  but  one  vice  on  this  journey :  he  drank  too 
much  wine  at  dinner.  His  res^ular  allowance  of  wine  w^as  two 
bottles,  and  he  often  went  beyond  even  that  enormous  quantity. 
One  day,  after  a  dinner  of  unusual  excess,  he  fell  into  a  dispute 
with  Admiral  Le  Fort,  and  was  so  transported  with  fury,  that 
he  rushed  upon  him  sword  in  hand.  Le  Fort,  with  admirable 
self-possession,  bared  his  bosom  to  the  stroke,  and  stood 
motionless  to  receive  it.  The  czar,  drunk  as  he  was,  was 
recalled  to  himself  by  this  action,  put  up  his  sword,  and,  as 
soon  as  he  was  a  little  sobered,  publicly  asked  Le  Fort's  pardon 
for  his  violence. 

"I  am  trying,"  said  he,  "to  reform  my  country,  and  I  am 
not  yet  able  to  reform  myself." 

While  he  was  pursuing  his  studies  in  Italy,  he  was  suddenly 
called  home  by  the  news  that  the  militia  and  the  old  tories  of 
Russia,  incited  thereto  by  Sophia  and  the  more  superstitious  of 
the  priests,  had  risen  in  revolt.  He  seized  the  occasion  to  break 
up  the  system.  He  executed,  it  is  said,  not  less  than  fifteen 
hundred  of  the  conspirators,  and  his  authority  was  never  again 
disputed,  nor  his  labors  interrupted  by  civil  commotion. 

The  greatest  of  all  his  difliculties,  from  the  begiuniug  to  the 
end  of  his  reign,  was  to  reconcile  his  subjects  to  innovation, 


PETER    THE     GREAT.  431 

and  make  them  hearty  co-operators  with  him  in  civilizing  tho 
country.  In  Russia,  as  in  every  country  on  earth,  there  were 
two  parties  :  those  who  wusli  things  -to  remain  as  they  are,  and 
those  who  favor  improvements.  The  former  venerate  the  past, 
and  believe  in  the  wisdom  of  forefathers ;  the  latter  press  hope- 
fully on  toward  the  future,  and  think  the  people  of  to-day  arc 
wiser  and  better  than  the  people  of  a  hundred  years  ago.  These 
two  parties  are  called  by  different  names  in  different  ages,  but 
they  always  exist.  They  have  been  styled,  in  this  country, 
whigs  and  tories,  democrats  and  federalists,  radicals  and  con- 
servatives. Peter  the  Great  was  the  most  decided  radical  that 
ever  ruled  a  country,  and  he  had  against  him  a  large  number  of 
the  higher  priests  and  the  elderly  noblemen,  as  well  as  a  great 
multitude  of  tho  ignorant  and  superstitious. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  fun  in  the  composition  of  this  illus- 
ti'ious  patriot,  and  he  turned  it  to  good  use  sometimes  in  throwing 
ridicule  upon  the  ancient  usages.  One  cold  day,  in  the  winter 
of  1703,  he  invited  all  his  court  and  nobility  to  attend  the 
wedding  of  one  of  his  buffoons ;  and  he  was  very  particular 
that  the  old  fogies  of  the  empire  should  be  present.  He  gave 
notice  that  this  weddins^  was  to  be  celebrated  accordins:  to  the 
"usages  of  our  ancestors,"  and  that  every  one  must  come 
dressed  in  the  manner  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Accordingly, 
all  the  guests  appeared  in  long,  flowing,  Asiatic  robes  of  tho 
ancient  Russians,  to  the  merriment  of  the  whole  court.  It  Avas 
an  ancient  custom  that  on  a  wedding-day  no  fire  should  be 
kindled  in  the  house ;  and,  therefore,  the  palace  was  as  cold  as 
mortal  flesh  could  bear.  "  Our  ancestors  "  drank  only  brandy, 
and  so  on  this  day  not  a  drop  of  any  milder  liquor  was  allowed. 
All  the  barbarous  and  indecent  customs  formerly  in  vogue  at 
weddings  were  revived  for  this  occasion,  and  when  any  one 
objected  or  complained,  the  czar  would  reply,  laughing : — 

"  Our  ancestors  did  so  !  Are  not  the  ancient  customs  always 
the  best?" 

This  ridiculous  fete,  it  is  said,  had  much  to  do  in  bringing  the 
old  usages  into  discredit,  and  reconciling  timid  people  to  the 
new  ways  introduced  by  the  czar. 

This  great  monarch  died  in  1725,  aged  fifty-three  years.     To 


432  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  last  clays  of  his  existence  he  toiled  for  his  country.  He 
had  a  violent  temper ;  he  was  too  fond  of  the  pleasures  of  the 
table;  and,  on  some  occasions,  he  was  more  severe  in  his  pun- 
ishments than  w^ould  now  be  permitted  or  necessary.  I  have, 
however,  the  decided  impression  that  the  accounts  we  have  of 
this  feature  of  his  reign  are  exaggerated,  and  that  he  was  a 
better  man  than  we  have  been  tausfht  to  believe.  The  Eussian 
language  being  the  most  difficult  and  unattractive  one  spoken 
in  Europe,  no  competent  person  has  ever  yet  studied  the  history 
of  Russia  in  its  sources ;  and  the  little  w^e  know  of  it  comes  to 
us  distorted  or  diluted  through  writers  who  never  read  a  Russian 
book  nor  trod  Russian  soil.  I  advise  readers  to  regard  the  so- 
called  Histories  of  Russia  with  a  good  deal  of  incredulity, 
especially  the  chapters  which  represent  Peter  the  Great  as  a 
bloody  and  cruel  tyrant. 


CHARLES    XII,  433 


CHARLES   XII. 


-•o*- 


Chaeles  KII.,  bora  in  1682,  was  a  boy  of  fifteen,  when  the 
:leath  of  bis  father  made  him  Kins:  of  Sweden.  His  mother 
had  died  some  years  before.  According  to  the  ancient  laws  of 
the  kingdom,  he  had  a  right  to  reign  at  the  age  of  fifteen  ;  but 
his  father,  who  was  a  very  self-willed  and  despotic  monarch, 
ordered  in  his  will  that  he  should  not  exercise  authority  until 
he  was  eighteen,  and  that  imtil  then  his  grandmother  should  be 
the  regent. 

Charles  was  a  soldier  almost  from  his  infancy.  At  seven  he 
could  ride  the  most  spirited  horse,  and,  during  all  his  boyhood, 
he  took  pleasm'e  in  those  violent  out-of-door  exercises  which 
harden  and  strengthen  the  constitution.  He  was  exceedingly 
obstinate,  and,  like  most  obstinate  people,  was  sometimes  led 
by  the  nose.  For  example  :  He  would  not  learn  Latin ;  but 
when  he  was  artfully  told  that  the  King  of  Denmark  and  the 
King  of  Poland  knew  that  language  well,  he  threw  himself  into 
the  study  of  it  with  great  energy,  and  became  a  very  good 
scholar.  Having  read  a  Latin  life  of  Alexander,  some  one 
asked  him  what  he  thought  of  that  conqueror. 

" I  think,"  said  he,  "that  I  should  like  to  resemble  him." 

"But,"  said  his  tutor,  "Alexander  lived  only  thirty-tvvo 
years." 

"Ah,"  replied  the  prince  ;  "  and  is  not  that  enough  w^hen  one 
has  conquered  kingdoms  ?  " 

When  his  father  heard  of  this  reply,  he  said  :  — 

"  Here  is  a  boy  who  will  make  a  better  king  than  I  am,  and 
who  will  go  farther  even  than  Gustavus  the  Great." 

One  day  he  stood  looking  at  a  map  of  a  province  of  Hungary 
which  had  recently  been  wrested  from  the  Emperor  of  Austi'ia 

28 


434  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

by  the  Turks.     At  the  l3ottom  of  this  map  some  satirical  person 
had  written  in  French  the  well-known  words  of  Job  :  — 

"  The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away  :  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord." 

Now,  this  was  a  pretty  good  joke  in  French,  because  the 
French  word  for  Lord  is  Seigneur^  and  it  was  common  at  that 
time  to  call  the  Sultan  of  Turkey  the  "  Grand  Seigneur. "  Next 
to  this  map  hung  one  of  Livonia,  a  province  conquered  by 
Sweden  a  hundred  years  before.  At  the  bottom  of  this  map  the 
young  prince  wrote  :  — 

"  God  gave  it  me  ;  the  Devil  shall  not  get  it  away." 
After  the  death  of  his  father,  concealing  whatever  resentment 
he  may  have  felt  at  being  left  under  the  tutelage  of  a  grand- 
mother, he  passed  all  his  time  in  hunting,  in  martial  exercises, 
and  in  reviewing  the  troops.  One  cla}^,  when  his  father  had 
been  dead  six  months,  and  he  was  not  quite  sixteen  years  of 
age,  he  was  observed  to  ride  home  from  a  grand  review  in  a 
very  thoughtful  mood,  and  one  of  his  nobles  asked  him  what 
was  the  subject  of  his  revery. 

"  I  am  thinking,"  replied  the  boy-king,  "  that  I  feel  myself 
worthy  to  command  those  brave  soldiers,  and  that  I  do  not  like 
that  either  they  or  I  should  receive  orders  from  a  woman." 

The  courtier  to  whom  this  was  said  jumped  at  the  opportu- 
nity to  make  his  fortune.  He  urged  the  king  to  terminate  his 
minority,  and  offered  his  services  in  making  the  arrangements 
necessary.  The  king  consenting,  it  was  not  difficult  to  gain 
over  the  ministers,  the  nobles,  and  the  officers  of  the  army. 
Without  bloodshed  or  any  kind  of  disturbance  the  revolution 
was  accomplished,  and  in  three  days  after  the  forming  of  the 
plan  the  regent  was  consigned  to  private  life,  and  Charles  Xll. 
was  the  reigning  King  of  Sweden.  At  the  ceremony  of  the 
coronation,  a  few  weeks  after,  just  as  the  archbishop  was  about 
to  place  the  crown  upon  the  royal  head,  Charles  took  it  out  of 
his  hands,  and  placed  it  himself  upon  his  heacl.  The  adroit 
courtier  who  had  aided  him  in  grettini?  the  crown  he  ennobled 
and  made  him  his  prime  minister. 

No  one,  it  appears,  expected  much  of  this  youthful  monarch. 
He  had  no  vices,  it  is  true ;  he  neither  drank,  nor  gormandized. 


CHARLES    XII.  43^; 

nor  gamhlod.  A  Spartan  soldier  was  not  more  temperate,  nor 
more  hardy,  nor  more  chaste  than  he.  But  he  was  haughty,  re- 
served, and  obstinate,  and  seemed  to  care  for  nothing  ]jut  hunt- 
ing and  the  drilling  of  his  troops.  The  ambassadors  residing 
at  his  court  wrote  home  to  their  masters  that  this  new  kin^'-  Avas 
stupid,  and  was  not  likely  ever  to  be  formidable  to  his  neiMi- 
bors.  His  own  subjects,  seeing  that  he  did  nothing  but  hunt 
and  attend  parades,  considered  him  inferior  to  his  ancestors. 

Old  Dr.  Franklin  used  to  say  that  if  a  man  makes  a  sheep 
of  himself,  the  wolves  will  eat  him.  Not  less  true  is  it,  that  if 
a  man  is  generally  siqiposed  to  be  a  sheep,  wolves  will  be  very 
likely  to  fr?/  and  eat  him. 

Three  kings,  neighbors  and  allies  of  Charles,  hearing  on  all 
hands  that  the  young  king  was  a  fool,  and  knowing  that  he  was 
only  a  boy  in  years,  concluded  that  it  would  be  an  excellent 
time  to  satisfy  some  ancient  grudges  against  Sweden,  and  to 
wrest  a  few  provinces  from  its  territory.  The  King  of  Den- 
mark was  one  of  these  good  neighbors  and  allies  ;  another  was 
the  King  of  Poland ;  the  third  and  most  powerful  was  Peter  the 
Great,  Czar  of  all  the  Russias.  Under  various  pretexts,  these 
three  Idngs  were  manning  ships  or  raising  troops  for  the  same 
object,  —  the  spoliation  of  the  heritage  of  Sweden's  youthful 
king. 

Sweden  was  alarmed.  Her  old  generals  were  dead,  her  armies 
were  unused  to  war,  and  her  king  was  thought  to  be  a  bo}^,  — 
ignorant,  self-willed,  and  incapable.  The  council  met  to  con- 
sider the  situation,  the  king  presiding.  The  aged  councillors 
advised  that  efforts  should  be  made  to  divert  or  postpone  the 
storm  by  negotiation.  When  the  old  men  had  spoken,  the  king 
rose  and  said :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  have  resolved  never  to  make  an  unjust  war, 
but  never  to  finish  a  just  one  except  by  the  destruction  of  my 
enemies.  My  resolution  is  taken.  The  first  who  declares  him- 
self, I  shall  go  and  attack,  and  when  I  have  conquered  him,  I 
hope  to  make  the  others  a  little  afraid  of  me." 

There  was  something  in  the  manner  of  the  king  which  in 


436  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

spired  confidence,  and  the  councillois  departed  to  enter  with 
spirit  into  the  preparations  of  war.  The  kingdom  was  instantly 
put  upon  a  war  footing.  The  king  laid  aside  his  gay  costumes 
and  wore  only  the  uniform  of  a  Swedish  general.  The  luxuries 
of  the  table  were  banished  from  his  abode,  and  he  partook  only 
of  soldier's  fare.  Submitting  himself  to  the  strictest  discipline, 
he  imposed  the  same  upon  his  troops,  and  soon  he  had  an  army 
of  soldiers  in  the  highest  state  of  efficiency.  It  is  said  that 
from  this  time  to  the  end  of  his  life  he  never  tasted  wine,  nor 
indulged  in  any  kind  of  vicious  pleasure  whatever.  He  was  a 
soldier,  and  nothing  but  a  soldier. 

Two  years  passed  after  the  first  alarm  before  the  storm  burst. 
The  year  1700  came  in,  which  was  the  eighteenth  year  of  the 
life  of  Charles  XII.  As  he  was  out  bear-hunting  one  day  in 
the  spring  of  that  year,  the  news  was  brought  to  him  that  Den- 
mark had  begun  the  war  by  invading  his  province  of  Livonia. 

He  was  ready.  Having  previously  provided  for  that  antici- 
pated invasion,  he  hurried  an  army  on  board  a  fleet,  and  struck 
at  once  for  the  heart  of  Denmark,  —  Copenhagen.  Not  many 
days  elapsed  after  the  interruption  of  his  bear-hunt,  before  he 
had  a  fleet  blockading  the  port  of  Copenhagen,  and  an  army 
thundering  at  its  gates. 

"  What  is  that  whistling  noise  I  hear  overhead  ? "  asked  the 
kmg,  as  he  was  disembarking  on  the  Danish  shore. 

"It  is  the  musket-balls,  sire,"  said  an  officer. 

"  Good ! "  said  the  king ;  "  that  shall  be  my  music  hence- 
foi-th." 

Such  were  the  rapidity  and  success  of  the  king,  that  in  six 
weeks  after  landing  on  Danish  soil  the  war  was  ended,  and  a 
treaty  concluded  which  conceded  to  the  King  of  Sweden  every- 
thing he  asked. 

Meanwhile,  the  King  of  Poland  was  besieging  Eiga  (which 
was  then  a  Swedish  city) ,  and  the  czar  was  leading  a  host  of  a 
hundred  thousand  undisciplined  barbarians  against  the  youn^y 
conqueror.  Charles  left  the  defence  of  Riga  to  a  vahant  old 
Swedish  general,  who  succeeded  in  holding  it,  and  marched 
himself  to  meet  the  czar  with  twenty  thousand  troops.  Never 
was  victory  more  sudden,  more  easy,  or  more  complete  than  that 


CHARLES    XII.  437 

which  these  twenty  thousand  Swedes  won  over  the  great  mob 
of  Russians  led  by  Peter.  The  czar  escaped  with  but  forty 
thousand  men. 

From  that  defeat  the  military  giTatness  of  Eussia  was  bom. 

"  I  know  well,"  said  the  czar,  as  ho  was  in  retreat,  "that  these 
Swedes  Avill  beat  us  for  a  long  time  ;  but,  at  last,  they  will  teach 
us  how  to  conquer." 

And  so  it  proved  ;  for,  from  that  day,  Peter  began  the  mighty 
work  of  drillins^  his  half-sava2:e  hordes  into  soldiers, — a  work 
which  is  still  cfoinsr  on,  thoa2:h  c:reat  procuress  has  been  made  in 
it.  The  Russian  people  attributed  their  defeat  to  sorcery  and 
witchcraft,  and  we  have  still  the  prayer  which  was  addressed  to 
St.  Nicholas  on  this  occasion  in  all  their  churches.  It  was  as 
follows :  — • 

"O  thou  who  ai-t  our  perpetual  consoler  in  all  our  adversities, 
great  Saint  Nicholas,  infinitely  powerful  —  by  what  sin  have  we 
oflendcd  thee  in  our  sacrifices,  our  homage,  our  salutations,  our 
penances,  that  thou  hast  abandoned  us  ?  We  implore  thy  assist- 
ance against  these  terrible,  insolent,  enraged,  frightful,  uncon- 
querable destroyers ;  and  yet,  like  lions  and  bears  robbed  of 
their  young,  they  have  attacked,  terrified,  wounded,  killed  by 
thousands,  us  who  are  thy  people.  As  this  could  not  have 
happened  except  by  enchantment  and  sorcery,  we  pray  thee,  O 
great  St.  Nicholas,  to  be  our  champion  and  our  standard-bearer, 
to  deliver  us  from  this  crowd  of  sorcerers,  and  to  drive  them 
from  our  frontiers  with  the  recompense  due  to  them." 

Charles  had  no  sooner  scattered  the  Russian  hosts  than  he 
turned  his  attention  to  Poland.  Partly  by  ai-tifice  and  partly  by 
victories,  he,  at  length,  dethroned  the  King  of  Poland,  and 
caused  to  be  elected  in  his  stead  Stanislas,  a  young  gentleman 
to  whom  he  had  chanced  to  take  a  fancy.  These  things,  how- 
ever, were  not  done  in  a  campaign.  From  the  time  of  his 
leaving  Sweden,  in  May,  1700,  to  the  complete  subjection  of 
Poland,  was  a  period  of  seven  years  ;  during  which  Charles  and 
his  men  lived  upon  the  country  and  saved  vast  sums  of  money. 

If  Charles  had  then  gone  home,  as  his  generals  advised  and 


438  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

his  troops  desired,  ho  might  have  lived  in  peace,  and  raised  his 
country  to  a  high  rank  among  the  powers  of  Europe.  Puffed 
up  by  a  long  series  of  easy  victories,  he  believed  all  things  pos- 
sible to  him  ;  so  he  had  resolved  to  do  to  the  czar  what  he  had 
done  to  the  Polish  kins:,  —  drive  him  from  his  throne.  But  all 
this  time  Peter  had  been  creating  an  army.  Deep  in  the  wil- 
dernesses of  Ukraine,  the  Swedish  troops,  weakened  by  hunger, 
fatigue  and  disease,  encountered  the  trained  soldiers  of  the  czar. 
The  Russians  were  more  than  victorious.  The  Swedish  army 
was  utterly  destroyed,  and  the  king,  badly  wounded,  was  com- 
pelled to  fly,  with  a  handful  of  followers,  and  seek  refuge  in 
Turkey.  He  lost  in  a  day  the  fruits  of  seven  years  of  victory, 
—  troops,  treasures,  gloiy,  all  were  gone,  and  he  himself  was  a 
fuo^itive  and  a  beo^srar. 

No  subsequent  efforts  could  restore  his  fortunes.  For  two 
years  he  remained  in  Turkey,  half  prisoner,  half  guest.  All 
his  enemies  rose  upon  him.  The  King  of  Poland  regained  his 
throne,  Denmark  invaded  his  dominions,  and  the  czar  prepared 
for  new  victories.  Escaping,  at  length,  Charles  returned  to 
Sweden,  and  was  carrying  on  the  war  against  his  enemies,  when 
a  chance  shot  terminated  his  career.  This  occurred  in  Decem- 
ber, 1718,  when  he  was  but  thii-ty-six  years  of  age.  He  was 
laying  siege,  at  the  time,  to  one  of  the  Danish  strongholds,  and, 
going  his  roimds  one  evening  at  nine,  he  leaned  over  an  angle 
of  a  battery,  when  a  ball,  weighing  half  a  pound,  entered  his 
temple,  and  he  fell  dead  upon  the  parapet.  One  of  his  officers 
said,  as  he  threw  a  cloak  over  the  body  :  — 

"  The  play  is  over ;  let  us  go  to  supper." 

The  Swedes,  happily  delivered  from  this  terrible  scourge, 
hastened  to  make  peace  with  all  their  enemies,  and  elected  as 
their  queen  the  sister  of  Charles  XXL,  whom  they  compelled  to 
renounce  all  right  to  bequeath  the  crown  to  her  issue.  The 
Swedes  had  had  enough  of  arbitrary  power ;  and  they  succeeded 
in  controlling  the  power  of  their  Idngs  to  such  a  degree  that 
their  monarchy  was,  for  the  next  seventy  years,  the  most  liiii«. 
ited  in  Europe. 


MAZEPPA.  i39 


MAZEPPA. 


In  the  year  1706,  when  Charles  XII.,  King  of  Sweden,  still 
in  the  full  tide  of  successful  warfare,  had  led  his  victorious 
troops  into  the  heart  of  Eussia,  he  received  secret  overtures 
from  the  Governor  of  Ukraine,  a  province  in  the  south-eastern 
part  of  Europe.  Ukraine  belonged  to  Russia,  though  it  still 
enjoyed  the  right  of  electing  its  prince,  subject  to  the  confirma- 
tion of  the  czar.  Its  inhabitants  were  warlike  and  semi- 
barbarous,  who  were  subject  to  the  czar  in  little  more  than 
name  ;  nor  to  their  own  elected  prince  did  they  render  any  more 
obedience  than  a  Tartar  tribe  usually  pa^^s  to  its  chief. 

The  Ukraine  prince,  who  met  the  young  King  of  Sweden  in 
the  forest  on  the  banks  of  the  Desna,  en2fai2^ed  to  furnish  the 
king  with  thirty  thousand  troops,  provisions  for  the  Swedish 
army,  and  a  large  amount  of  treasure,  the  accumulation  of  thirty 
years,  on  condition  that,  at  the  end  of  the  war  against  the  czar, 
Ukraine  should  be  an  independent  State.  Charles  accepted  the 
condition,  and  the  treaty  was  concluded. 

The  name  of  this  powerful  Ukraine  chief  was  Ivan  Stepano- 
vitch  Mazeppa.  Civilized  Europe  first  learned  his  name,  and 
something  of  his  strange  histoiy,  through  Voltaire,  who  heard 
the  particulars  from  one  of  Charles'  officers,  and  gave  them  to 
the  public  in  his  celebrated  Life  of  Charles  XII.  Lord  Byron, 
struck  with  the  romantic  storj^  as  related  by  Voltaire,  made  it 
the  subject  of  a  poem,  and  it  has  since  been  performed  as  a 
drama  in  all  countries.  But  for  the  chance  meeting  in  London, 
in  1726,  of  Voltaire  and  one  of  the  mad  Kinir  of  Sweden's 
followers,  the  name  of  INTazeppa,  in  all  probability,  had  never 
been  known  bej^ond  the  confines  of  Russia.  Mazeppa  was  fifty- 
two  years  of  age  when  he  first  met  Charles  XII.     The  romantic 


MO       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

events  which  form  the  subject  of  Byron's  poem  took  placxj  when 
he  was  a  youthful  page  at  the  court  of  the  King  of  Poland,  and 
it  is  quite  likely  (as  Byron  supposes)  that  he  related  them  him- 
self to  the  Kin<2f  of  Sweden. 

Mazeppa,  though  he  ruled  a  barbarous  people,  was  not  him- 
self a  barbarian.  He  was  born  in  1644,  in  Poland;  and  was 
therefore  not  a  born  subject  of  the  czar.  He  was  descended, 
however,  from  a  noble  Russian  family,  which  was  transported 
to  Poland  by  a  chance  of  war  fifty  years  before  Mazeppa  was 
born.  His  grandfather,  a  colonel  in  the  Russian  army,  was 
carried  awa}^  captive  in  1597  by  the  Poles,  with  all  his  family, 
and  was  roasted  alive  in  the  belly  of  a  copper  bull,  according 
to  a  pleasant  custom  of  the  countrj^  His  family  remained  in 
Poland,  and  flourished ;  so  that  the  grandson  of  the  roasted 
colonel  was  well  educated  in  a  Jesuit  college,  and  was  trans- 
ferred thence  to  the  court  of  the  king,  where  he  served  as  page. 
Voltaire  says  he  had  only  a  "  tincture  of  literature  "  (quelque 
teinture  des  belles-lettres),  but  more  recent  French  authorities 
aver  that  he  was  as  familiar  with  Latin  as  with  Polish,  and  that 
he  was  a  really  accomplished  man  in  literature.  All  agree, 
however,  that  he  was  one  of  the  most  handsome,  well-formed, 
graceful,  fascinating  pages  that  ever  adorned  a  court,  —  skilled, 
too,  in  all  martial  arts  and  exercises,  and  inured  to  hardship 
and  fatigue. 

Thus  endowed,  he  was  naturally  a  favorite  with  the  ladies  of 
the  court,  and  he  passed  much  of  his  time  in  w4iat  were  then 
styled  "gallant  intrigues,"  but  which  ice  call  by  a  much  more 
correct  and  descriptive  name.  Among  those  to  whom  he  was 
attached  w^as  a  Polish  nobleman's  young  and  lovely  wife,  whose 
"Asiatic  eye  "  Byron  describes  in  a  passage  that  has  been  a 
thousand  times  quoted  :  — 

"All  love,  half  languor  and  half  fire, 
Like  saints  that  at  the  stake  expire, 
And  lift  their  raptured  looks  on  high, 
As  though  it  were  a  joy  to  die." 

The  injured  husband,  having  surprised  these  lawless  lovers, 
wreaked  upon  Mazeppa  a  vengeance  at  once  terrible  and  unique 


MAZEPPA.  441 

XIaving  caused  him  to  be  stripped  naked,  he  had  him  smeared 
with  tar  from  head  to  foot,  and  then  rolled  in  down  ;  or,  as  we 
should  say,  he  had  him  tarred  and  feathered.  This  part  of  the 
penalty  both  Yoltairc  and  Byron  omit.  As  far  as  I  know,  ^la- 
zeppa  was  the  first  man  recorded  in  history  who  sufFercd  this 
ignominious  punishment,  which  many  people  suppose  to  be  an 
American  invention.  The  enraged  Pole  next  ordered  a  wild 
horse  to  be  brought,  "  a  Tartar  of  the  Ukraine  breed,"  upon 
which  Mazeppa  was  bound,  and  the  horse  was  let  go  :  — 

*'  Awaj' !  away  —  my  breatli  was  gone  — 
I  saw  not  where  he  hurried  on. 
*Twas  scarcely  yet  the  break  of  day, 
And  on  he  foamed  —  away !  away !  " 

To  speak  in  plain  prose,  this  horse,  having  been  bred  in 
Ukraine,  fled  toward  that  province,  and  galloped  about  two 
hundred  miles  with  Mazeppa  before  he  dropped  dead  under  his 
burthen.  Mazeppa,  too,  became  insensible,  just  as  a  troop  of 
wolves  seemed  about  to  close  in  and  devour  both  horse  and 
rider.  When  he  returned  to  consciousness,  he  found  himself 
stretched  upon  a  coarse  bed  in  a  woodman's  cottage,  waited  upon 
by  the  woodman's  daughter,  whom  Byron,  of  course,  represents 
to  have  been  one  of  the  loveliest  of  her  sex  :  — 

"  A  slender  girl,  long-haired  and  tall." 

Attended  by  this  beautiful  Cossack  girl  and  her  respectable 
parents  Mazeppa  soon  regained  his  health,  and  won  every  heart 
by  his  gayety,  courage,  and  dexterity.  Joining  the  Cossack 
army,  he  advanced  rapidly,  until  he  became  the  most  popular 
and  powerful  of  the  Cossack  chiefs.  Tradition  reports  that  he 
made  his  way  to  chieftainship  by  acts  ot*  treachery  and  cruelt}^, 
destroying  the  men  by  whose  aid  he  had  begun  to  cliuib.  This, 
however,  is  mere  tradition,  and  it  comes  to  us  through  his 
enemies,  the  Eussians.  Elected,  at  length.  Governor  of  Ukraine, 
his  election  was  confirmed  by  the  czar,  Peter  the  Great,  and 
he  repaired,  some  time  after,  to  the  court  of  that  fiery  potentate. 
Peter,  whom  Mazeppa,  with  his  troops,  had  ably  served  in  the 
conquest  of  the  Crimea,  received  him  with  great  consideration. 


4A2  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

decorated  him  with  orders,  and  admitted  him  at  length  to  per- 
fect intimacy.  One  day  (so  the  story  goes)  when  Mazeppa 
was  dining  with  the  czar  at  Moscow,  and  the  irascible  Peter 
had  drunk  too  much  wine,  as  he  did  every  da}-,  the  conversa- 
tion turned  upon  the  affairs  of  Ukraine,  in  the  course  of  which 
the  czar  said  he  meant  to  send  an  army  there,  and  formally 
annex  the  province  to  Eussia.  Supposing  Mazeppa  to  be  in 
heart  and  soul  a  Russian,  he  was  surprised  to  observe  that  this 
announcement  of  a  cherished  purpose  was  unpleasing  to  him. 
Mazeppa,  it  is  said,  proceeded  from  gentle  remonstrance  to  em- 
phatic and  even  menacing  objection.  He  reminded  the  czar 
that  the  essential  independence  of  Ukraine  was  secured  by 
treaties,  and  he  declared  that  if  an  attempt  should  ever  be 
made  to  deprive  the  Cossacks  of  their  ancient  liberties,  he, 
their  governor,  would  know  how  to  defend  them. 

At  this  the  czar  flew  into  one  of  his  tearing  passions.  Start- 
ing up  from  his  seat,  he  rushed  upon  Mazeppa,  seized  him  by 
the  beard,  and  tore  out  a  handful  of  his  mustache.  Mazeppa, 
indignant  as  he  was,  was  still  sufficiently  master  of  himself  not 
to  offer  resistance  to  the  infuriate  monarch.  Peter  thought  no 
more  of  the  affair,  but  Mazeppa  cherished  in  his  heart  a  deep 
and  active  resentment,  w^hich  he  bore  back  with  him  to  his 
province.  Before  many  years  had  elapsed,  Charles  XII.  came 
thundering  through  that  part  of  Europe,  his  darling  object  being 
the  dethronement  of  the  czar,  and  Mazeppa  thought  he  saw  in 
that  young  conqueror,  who  had  never  yet  been  defeated,  the 
means  of  securing  the  independence  of  his  country  and  the 
gratification  of  his  vengeance.  His  offers  were  promptly  ac- 
cepted. He  soon  after  met  the  King  of  Sweden,  and  they 
became  fast  friends. 

The  Eussian  historians,  in  their  endeavors  to  blacken  the  char- 
acter of  Mazeppa,  relate  this  anecdote,  which  Yoltaire  borrows 
from  them.  Having  concluded  his  treaty  with  Charles  XII., 
he  invited  a  number  of  chiefs  to  his  house  to  bring  them  over  to 
consent  to  the  alliance.  When  they  wxre  all  drunk,  Mazeppa 
easily  got  them  to  swear  upon  the  gospels  that  they  would  fur- 
nish men  and  food  to  the  King  of  Sweden.  At  the  end  of  tho 
debauch,   the   chiefs   carried  away  all  the   silver  vessels   and 


MAZErrA.  443 

portable  furniture  of  the  room.  jMazoppa's  butler  ran  after 
them,  and  took  the  liberty  to  remark  that  their  conduct  was 
not  in  accordance  with  the  gospels  upon  which  they  had  just 
sworn.  The  servants  also  came  up  and  attempted  to  recover 
their  master's  property.  The  Cossack  chiefs  marched  l)ack  in 
a  body  to  complain  to  Mazeppa  of  this  unheard-of  affront,  and 
demanded  that  the  offending  butler  should  be  delivered  up 
to  them.  Mazeppa,  say  the  Russians,  had  the  unspeakable 
baseness  to  surrender  his  faithful  servant,  whereupon  the  chiefs 
divided  themselves  into  two  parties,  and  tossed  the  poor  butler 
back  and  forth  like  a  ball,  till  they  were  tired,  when  one  of  them 
drove  his  knife  through  his  heart. 

Having  cast  in  his  lot  with  Charles  XII.,  Mazeppa  shared  his 
fate.  The  czar  utterly  defeated  the  rash  young  king,  who  was 
compelled  to  seek  refuge  in  Turkejs  with  Mazeppa  and  a  few 
foithful  followers.  Turkey,  being  then  submissive  to  the  czar, 
the  fugitives  soon  found  that  their  refuge  was  a  prison.  The 
czar  peremptorily  demanded  the  surrender  of  Mazeppa,  whom 
he  claimed  as  his  vassal.  While  the  Turkish  government  was 
hesitating  whether  or  not  to  comply  with  this  haughty  demand, 
Mazeppa  died,  as  it  is  supposed,  by  his  own  hand.  Charles 
XII.  was  faithful  to  his  ally  to  the  last,  and  did  all  that  was 
possible,  in  his  situation,  to  protect  him  from  the  czar's  ven- 
geance. Mazeppa  died  at  Bender,  in  Turkey  (now  in  Russia), 
in  1709,  aged  sixty-five. 


4:4A  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 


DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


How  much  easier  it  is  to  die  well  than  it  is  to  live  well !  And 
how  absurd  it  is  to  judge  of  a  person's  character  by  the  way  in 
which  he  spends  the  closing  hours  of  his  life  !  Some  very  great 
sinners  have  died  in  the  most  edifying  manner,  while  some  of 
the  most  eminently  virtuous  persons  that  have  ever  given  a  good 
example  to  their  species  have  started  back  in  afiVight  at  the 
approach  of  their  last  hour,  and  died  in  gloom. 

Such  were  my  reflections  the  other  day,  upon  reading  in  an 
old  French  booiv  an  account  of  the  death  of  Louis  XIV.,  who 
was  King  of  France  from  1643  to  1715,  —  a  period  of  seventy- 
two  years.  He  had  been  proud,  arrogant,  selfish,  licentious, 
extravagant,  and  cruel.  He  had  wasted  his  kingdom  in  unjust 
wars  and  profuse  living ;  he  had  driven  from  their  homes  and 
country  the  best  of  his  subjects,  the  Huguenots ;  he  had  in- 
stalled his  mistresses  at  court,  and  raised  their  children  to  the 
rank  of  legitimate  princes  ;  and  the  only  palliation  of  his  crimes 
was  that  he  had  been  allowed  to  grow  up  in  the  greatest  igno- 
rance.    Yet  he  died  as  calmly  as  a  saint. 

It  was  August  9,  1715,  the  seventy-seventh  year  of  the  king's 
life.  Debilitated  by  age  and  disease,  the  king  on  that  day  en- 
joyed for  the  last  time  the  pleasures  of  the  chase,  but  vv^as 
obliged  to  follow  the  stag  in  a  kind  of  gig,  which  he  drove  him- 
self. Two  days  after,  which  was  Sunday,  he  held  his  council 
as  usual,  and  afterwards  walked  in  the  garden.  He  came  in 
exhausted,  and  he  never  again  was  out  of  doors  alive.  During  the 
next  few  days  he  grew  daily  weaker,  and,  at  length,  took  to  his 
bed ;  where,  however,  he  continued  to  transact  business  with 
his  ministers  every  day.  A  grand  review  had  been  ordered  for 
the  23d  of  August,  at  which  the  king  was  so  desirous  of  pre- 


DEATH    OF    LOUIS    XIV.  445 

siding,  tlKit  he  caused  a  bed  to  be  prepared,  upon  Avhieli  ho 
meant  to  lie  and  witness  the  evolutions  of  the  troops.  Finding 
that  he  could  uot  support  the  fatigue,  it  was  necessary  for  him 
to  select  some  one  to  represent  him.  He  passed  by  all  the 
legitimate  princes,  and  named  for  this  duty  his  illegitimate  son, 
the  Due  de  Maine. 

On  the  25th  of  August,  at  seven  in  the  evening,  as  the 
musicians  of  the  court  Avere  assembling  in  the  saloon  where  the 
king  was  reclining,  for  the  usual  evening  concert,  he  became 
suddenly  worse,  and  the  doctors  in  attendance  were  summoned. 
They  pronounced  him  near  his  end,  and  advised  that  the  ex- 
treme unction  should  be  administered  to  him.  The  musicians 
were  dismissed,  and  the  priests  were  sent  for,  who  received  the 
king's  confession,  gave  him  absolution,  and  administered  the 
communion  to  him.  This  ceremony  being  concluded  at  eleven 
in  the  evening',  the  kins:  called  to  his  bedside  the  Due  d'Or- 
leans,  his  nephew  (great  grandfather  of  Louis  Philippe,  the  last 
king  of  the  French),  by  whom  the  kingdom  was  to  be  ruled 
during  the  minority  of  the  heir  to  the  throne,  —  the  king's 
grandson,  a  boy  of  five  and  a  half  years.  He  recommended 
the  young  king  to  his  protecting  care,  and  said  :  — 

"If  he  should  not  live,  you  wdll  be  the  master,  and  the  crown 
will  belong  to  you.  I  have  made  the  dispositions  which  I 
deemed  wisest ;  but  as  no  one  can  foresee  everything,  if  there 
is  anything  not  ordered  for  the  best,  let  it  be  changed." 

The  next  day,  having  summoned  around  him  the  cardinals 
and  priests,  whose  advice  he  had  been  most  accustomed  to  fol- 
low in  all  ajffairs  relating  to  the  church,  he  said  to  them  :  — 

"I  die  in  the  faith  of,  and  in  submission  to,  the  church.  I  am 
not  learned  in  the  matters  w^hich  trouble  its  peace ;  I  have 
merely  followed  your  counsels.  Having  done  only  what  you 
advised,  if  I  have  done  ill,  you  will  answer  for  it  before  God, 
whom  I  call  to  witness." 

The  priests  replied  by  the  usual  fulsome  eulogiums  upon  his 
conduct,  in  the  expulsion  of  the  protestants  and  the  persecution 
of  the  Jansenists  (the  Calvinists  of  Catholicism)  ;  "for,"  says 
the  author  before  me,  "he  was  destined  to  be  praised  to  the  last? 
moment  of  his  life." 


M6  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Soon  after,  the  dying  moncarcli  caused  to  be  brought  to  his 
bedside  the  infant  heir  to  the  cj'own,  known  afterwards  as  Louis 
XV. ,  a  worse  man  than  Louis  XIV. ,  and  almost  as  bad  a  king. 
The  words  uttered  by  the  king  to  him,  on  this  occasion,  were 
afterwards  engraved,  framed,  and  huug  up  in  the  royal  bed- 
room, above  the  place  where  the  young  king  knelt  to  say  his 
prayers.  They  remained  there  during  the  whole  reign  of  Louis 
XV. ,  which  lasted  fift3^-nine  years.     They  were  as  follows  :  — 

"Mj^  dear  child,  you  are  going  immediately  to  be  the  mon- 
arch of  a  great  kingdom.  What  I  recommend  to  you,  above 
all,  is,  never  to  forget  the  obligations  under  which  you  rest  to 
God.     Bear  in  mind  that  to  him  3^ou  owe  all  that  you  are. 

"  Try  to  preserve  the  peace  with  your  neighbors. 

"  I  have  loved  war  too  much.  Do  not  imitate  me  in  that,  any 
more  than  in  my  too  great  expenditures. 

"Take  counsel  in  all  things.  Try  hard  to  know  what  is  the 
best  course,  and  follow  it  always. 

"Relieve  your  people  from  their  privations  as  soon  as  you 
can,  and  do  for  them  what  I  have  been  so  unhappy  as  not  to  be 
able  to  do. 

"  Never  forget  what  you  owe  to  Madame  de  Ventadour  "  (his 
governess) . 

Then,  turning  toward  Madame  de  Ventadour,  he  said  :  — 

"  For  my  part,  madame,  I  am  very  sorry  to  be  no  longer  in 
a  condition  to  testify  my  gratitude  to  you." 

Speaking  again  to  the  little  prince,  and  kissing  him  twice,  he 
said  :  — 

"With  my  whole  heart,  my  dear  child,  I  give  you  my 
blessing." 

At  this  moment  the  king  was  so  deeply  moved  that  the  Duch- 
ess de  Ventadour  thought  it  best  to  draw  the  prince  away,  and 
took  him  out  of  the  room.  The  king  then  addressed  a  few 
words  to  each  of  his  children  and  grandchildren,  and  to  each  of 
his  principal  servants,  thanking  them  for  their  fidelity,  and  ask- 
ing them  to  be  as  faithful  to  his  grandson  as  they  had  been  to 
him.  Li  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  he  called  around  his 
bedside  all  the  lords  of  his  court,  and  addressed  them  thus :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  ask  your  pardon  for  the  bad  example  I  have 


DEATH    OF    LOUIS    XIV.  447 

given  you.  I  have  a  great  deal  to  thank  3'ou  for  in  the  manner 
m  which  ^'ou  have  served  me,  as  well  as  for  the  attachment  and 
fidelity  you  have  shown  me.  I  am  very  sorry  not  to  have  done 
for  you  all  that  I  conld  have  wished.  I  ask  for  my  grandson 
the  same  application  and  fidelity  that  3^ou  have  had  for  me.  I 
hope  you  will  all  strive  to  live  in  union,  and  if  any  one  departs 
from  this  course,  that  you  will  endeavor  to  bring  him  ])ack  to  it. 
I  feel  that  I  am  too  much  agitated,  and  that  I  move  3'ou  also.. 
Pray,  forgive  me.  Farewell,  gentlemen.  I  count  upon  your 
thinkins:  of  me  sometimes." 

The  next  day,  being  still  in  perfect  possession  of  his  faculties, 
he  passed  some  time  in  burning  papers,  and  he  gave  orders  that, 
after  his  death,  his  heart  should  be  placed  in  the  chapel  of  the 
Jesuits,  opposite  to  the  spot  where  had  been  deposited  the  heart 
of  his  father,  Louis  XIII.  He  surprised  the  court  by  occasion- 
ally speaking  of  his  grandson  as  "the  young  hing,''^  and  by  say- 
ing, "^^  when  I  was  king,"  as  though  his  reign  had  already  ended. 
To  his  mistress,  or,  rather,  to  his  wafe  (for  he  had  secretly 
married  her  some  time  before) ,  he  said  ;  — 

"I  have  always  heard  say  that  dying  is  difficult.  I  am  ueai 
my  last  hour,  yet  I  do  not  find  it  so  painful  to  give  up  life." 

The  lady  replied,  that  only  those  persons  found  death  appall- 
ing w^ho  were  attached  to  the  world,  or  who  had  committed 
wronofs.     The  kinsc  said  :  — 

"As  a  human  being,  I  have  wronged  no  one;  and  as  to  the 
injuries  I  have  done  my  kingdom,  I  hope  in  the  mercy  of  God. 
I  have  made  a  full  confession,  and  my  confessor  assures  me  that 
I  may  confidently  trust  in  God  for  forgiveness ;  and  such  is  my 
trust." 

Seeing  two  of  his  servants  crying  at  the  foot  of  his  bed,  he 
said :  — 

"Why  do  you  w^eep?  Did  you  think  I  should  live  forever? 
My  age  ought  to  have  prepared  you  for  my  death." 

Then,  turning  to  his  wife,  ^Madame  de  Maintenon,  he  added  : — 

"  What  consoles  me  at  leaving  you,  is  the  hope  that  we  shall 
rejoin  one  another  in  eternity." 

She  made  no  reply  to  this ;  but,  as  she  turned  to  leave  the 
room,  a  few  moments  after,  she  was  overheard  to  say  to  herself* 


44:8  PEOPLE'S      BOOK      OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

"  A71iat  a  rendezvous  he  gives  me  !  This  man  has  never  lovea 
anybody  but  himself." 

Madame  de  Maintenon,  in  fact,  was  thoroughly  tired  of  hei 
exacting  old  lover,  and  naturally  shrank  from  the  fearful  pros- 
pect of  spending  an  eternity  with  him. 

A  quack  doctor,  who  pretended  to  have  an  "elixir"  that 
would  do  anything  except  raise  the  dead,  was  allowed  to  give 
the  dying  king  a  dose  or  two  of  his  compound.  The  first  dose 
appeared  to  revive  him,  but  only  for  a  moment.  As  he  was 
about  to  take  the  second,  he  said  :  — 

"For  life  or  for  death,  just  as  it  pleases  God  ! " 
From  the  time  the  king  had  taken  to  his  bed,  the  courtiers 
paid  more  and  more  attention  to  the  Due  d'Orleans,  who  would 
be  the  ruler  of  France  the  moment  the  breath  was  out  of  the 
old  king's  body.  He  had  apartments  in  the  palace  in  which  the 
king  lay  dying,  and  it  was  said  at  the  time  that  the  state  of  the 
king's  health  could  be  ascertained  by  the  number  of  persons 
that  paid  their  court  to  the  future  regent.  If  the  king  drooped, 
the  apartments  of  the  Due  d'Orleans  were  thronged  with  court- 
iers ;  if  the  king  revived,  it  was  the  king's  chamber  and  ante- 
chambers that  were  crowded.  One  day,  when  the  king  was  so 
much  better  that  it  was  thought  he  would  recover,  the  Due 
d'Orleans  was  left  almost  alone ;  but  the  next  day,  when  the 
king  was  very  much  worse,  his  apartments  were  overflowing 
with  people  from  morning  till  night. 

On  the  last  day  of  August  it  was  evident  that  the  king  could 
not   survive   many   hours.     Once   more   the   priests   gathered 
around  his  bed,  and  said  the  prayers  appointed  for  the  dying. 
The  king  made  the  responses  with  a  strong  voice,  and,  recog- 
nizing one  of  the  cardinals,  he  said  to  him :  — 
"These  are  the  last  favors  of  the  church." 
In  his  dying  struggles,  he  said  many  times  :  — 
"  My  God,  come  to  my  aid  ;  make  haste  to  succor  me  I  " 
On  Sunday  morning,  September  1st,  at  a  quarter  past  eight, 
the  king  breathed  his  last,  and  the  whole  crowd  of  courtiers 
gathered  round  the  new  dispenser  of  favors, — the  regent  of  the 
kingdom.     All  France  breathed  more  freely,  when  it  was  re- 
lieved from  the  incubus  of  this  proud,  ignorant,  and  superstitious 


DEATH     OF    LOUIS    XIV.  440 

monarch.  Powerful  as  lie  had  been  while  living,  liis  will  was 
totally  disregarclcd  after  his  death,  and  his  body  was  borne  to 
the  tomb  amid  the  imconcealed  joy  of  the  people.  If  any  one 
wishes  to  know  what  a  barbarism  the  institution  of  monarchy 
is,  let  him  study  the  reign  and  character  of  Louis  XIY.,  with- 
out, ho"svever,  attaching  the  slightest  importance  to  his  tranquil 
and  pious  death.  I  recommend  this  study  especially  to  those 
who  have  been  reading  lately  the  glorification  of  monarchy 
contained  in  Mr.  Carlyle's  Life  of  Frederick  II.,  King  of 
Prussia. 

29 


450  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 


JOHN   LAW. 


John  Law,  born  in  1671,  the  son  of  an  Edinburgh  goldsmith, 
made,  perhaps,  as  much  noise  and  stir  in  this  workl  as  any  man 
that  ever  lived  in  it.  His  father,  dying  when  the  boy  v/as  four- 
teen, left  him  an  independent  fortune,  into  possession  of  which 
he  came  when  he  was  twenty-one.  He  was  a  young  man  of 
extraordinary  beauty,  grace,  and  agility.  Manly  exercises  had 
nobly  developed  his  frame,  his  mind  had  been  nurtured  in  the 
best  schools  of  his  country,  and  his  manners  formed  in  the 
higher  circles  of  Edinburgh.  Handsome,  accomplished,  and 
rich,  his  knowledge  was  more  showy  than  sound,  and  his  morals 
were  French  rather  than  Scotch. 

A  goldsmith,  in  old  times,  was  also  a  money-changer  and 
broker.  Young  Law  was  early  accustomed  to  hear  money  ques- 
tions discussed  among  his  father's  friends,  and  was  observed  to 
take  an  interest  in  such  subjects  unusual  in  a  youth.  He  could 
talk  very  fluently  about  the  currency  ;  and  when,  soon  after  com- 
ing of  age,  he  was  living  a  gay  life  in  London,  the  subject  uni- 
versally talked  of  was  the  scheme  of  establishing  the  institution 
now  known  as  the  Bank  of  England.  From  these  causes,  as 
well  as  from  the  original  bent  of  his  mind,  the  favorite  themo 
of  thought  and  conversation  with  him  was  finance.  Neverthe- 
less, he  knew  little  about  the  matter.  He  was  a  quick,  cool 
calculator,  much  better  fitted  to  shine  at  the  card-table  than  in 
the  treasury  of  a  nation. 

While  living  the  life  of  a  man  of  fashion  in  London  he  killed 
a  gentleman  in  a  duel,  for  which  he  was  tried  as  a  murderer  and 
sentenced  to  death.  He  was  pardoned  by  the  king,  and  went 
upon  the  continent.  Eoaming  about  among  the  capitals  of  Eu- 
rope, extravagant  and  licentious,  he  soon  wasted  liis  fortune,  and 


JOHN    LAW.  451 

resorted  to  gambling  to  repair  it.  Iligli  play  was  then  the  reign- 
ing pleasure  of  soeiety  in  every  country  in  Europe.  Louis  XIV. 
was  not  displeased  when  he  heard  that  the  Portuguese  Ambassa- 
dor had  won  eiirhteen  hundred  thousand  francs  of  his  niece  in  a 
single  night.  High  play,  he  thought,  became  a  princess  of  the 
royal  house  of  France,  and  he  was  willing  Europe  should  know 
on  what  a  scale  of  grandeur  gambling  was  done  at  his  court. 
John  Law,  cool,  adroit,  calculating,  found  the  careless  nobles 
of  the  time  an  easy  prey.  A  stout  footman  preceded  him  to  the 
houses  of  his  antagonists,  carrying  two  heavy  bags  of  gold,  and 
the  serv^ant  usually  had  a  heavier  load  to  carry  home  than  the  one 
he  brought.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years,  besides  living  like  a 
prince,  he  could  produce  in  ready  money  a  sum  equal  in  our 
currency  to  a  million  dollars.  Indeed,  such  was  his  success, 
that  he  was  suspected  of  cheating,  and,  at  last,  few  ventured  to 
play  TV'ith  him. 

Tired  of  this  w^andering  existence,  he  returned  to  Scotland, 
where  he  renewed  his  former  studies  in  finance,  upon  which  he 
published  a  treatise,  entitled  "  Considerations  upon  Money  and 
Commerce."  Paper  money  was  his  favorite  branch  of  financial 
science.  He  proposed  the  establishment  of  a  Bank  of  Scotland, 
the  credit  of  which  should  be  founded  upon  the  landed  estates 
of  its  stockholders,  which  estates  should  be  pledged  to  the  re- 
demption of  its  notes.  His  idea  was,  that  since  money  is  of  no 
value  in  itself,  but  only  a  representative  of  value,  paper  money 
is  as  good  as  gold, — provided  you  can  only  mahe people  thinh 
so.  The  canny  Scotch  people,  however,  did  not  fancy  the 
scheme,  and  Law  resumed  his  vagabond  life. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  rei2:n  of  Louis  XIV.  he  came  to 
Paris,  where  he  won  such  enormous  sums  at  the  game  then 
called  "pharao,"  that  the  lieutenant  of  police  ordered  him  to 
leave  the  city,  alleging  for  a  reason  that  he  "  understood  the 
game  he  had  introduced  too  ivell.^*  He  obeyed  the  order,  but 
not  before  he  had  made  an  ineffaceable  impression  upon  the 
mind  of  the  Due  d'Orleans,  nephew  of  the  old  king,  and  about 
to  be  reirent  of  the  kingdom.  Law's  brilliant  and  shallow  talk 
upon  finance,  aided  by  the  graceful  wickedness  of  his  life, 
captivated  the  ignorant,  rash,  and  dissolute  prince.     The  Due 


452  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGKAPHY. 

d'Orleans  was  not  in  flivor  with  the  king,  and  he  could  not  save 
Law  from  expulsion  ;  but  he  retained  the  conviction  that  if  there 
was  a  man  in  the  world  who  understood  the  science  of  monev, 
that  man  was  John  Law. 

The  extrava£!:ant  old  kins:  died  in  1715,  leavinsr  the  finances  of 
the  kingdom  in  inconceiva'ole  disorder, — a  thousand  times  worse 
than  the  finances  of  the  United  States  at  the  close  of  the  revolu- 
tionary war.  An  anecdote  of  the  last  year  of  Louis  XIV.  will 
show  to  Avhat  miserable  expedients  the  king's  ministers  were 
reduced. 

The  king  wished  to  give  one  more  of  his  great  festivals  at 
Versailles,  and  ordered  his  minister  of  finance  to  provide  the 
money,  —  four  millions  of  francs.  The  treasury  was  empty,  and 
the  credit  of  the  government  was  gone.  A  royal  bond  of  one 
hundred  francs  was  worth  thirty-five  francs.  One  day,  when 
the  minister  was  pacing  his  ante-chamber,  considering  how  he 
should  raise  the  sum  required,  he  perceived,  through  an  open 
door,  two  of  his  servants  looking  over  the  papers  on  his  desk. 
An  idea  darted  into  his  mind.  He  drew  up  the  scheme  of  a 
grand  lottery,  which  he  pretended  w^as  designed  to  jjay  off  a  cer- 
tain description  of  bonds.  This  scheme,  half  written  out,  he 
left  upon  his  desk,  and  remained  absent  for  a  considerable  time. 
His  two  lackeys  were,  as  he  supposed,  employed  by  stock- 
jobbers to  discover  the  intentions  of  the  government  with  regard 
to  the  issue  and  redemption  of  its  bonds.  They  did  their  work, 
and  at  once  the  bonds  began  to  rise  in  price,  and  went  up  in  a 
few  days  from  thirty-five  to  eighty-five.  When  they  had  reached 
the  price  last  named  and  were  in  active  demand,  the  minister 
issued  and  slipped  upon  the  market  new  bonds  enough  to  furnish 
him  with  the  needful  four  millions  of  francs.  The  trick  was  soon 
discovered,  and  the  bonds  dropped  to  twenty-eight.  The  last 
loan  negotiated  by  Louis  XIV.  was  efi'ected  at  the  rate  of  four 
hundred  for  one  hundred,  the  government  binding  itself  to  pay 
four  hundred  francs  for  every  one  hundred  received.  Such 
were  some  of  the  evils  arising  from  having  a  pompous  old  fool 
at  the  head  of  a  great  nation. 

"When  the  king  died,  there  was  not  merely  an  immense  pub- 
lic debt,  but  that  debt  was  in  a  condition  of  perfect  chaos.    Louis 


JOHN    LAW.  4.3,'^ 

XIV.  hiixl  raised  monoy  in  every  conecival)lc  way,  and  on  all 
conceivable  terms.  lie  had  sold  annuities  for  one  life,  for  two 
lives,  for  three  lives,  and  in  perpetuity.  He  had  issued  every 
kind  of  bond  and  promissory  note  which  the  inirenulty  of  his 
minister  could  devise,  or  the  reluctance  of  lenders  demand. 
There  had  been  a  very  large  annual  deficit  for  fifteen  successive 
years,  which  had  been  made  up  by  selling  offices  and  borrowing 
money.  When  the  regent  took  the  reins  of  power,  he  found, 
1.  An  almost  incalculable  debt ;  2.  Eight  hundred  millions  of 
francs  then  due;  3.  An  empty  treasury.  Almost  every  one  in 
Paris,  from  princes  to  lackeys,  who  had  any  property  at  all, 
held  the  royal  paper,  then  worth  one-fourth  its  apparent  value. 

What  was  to  be  done?  They  tried  the  wildest  expedients. 
The  coin  was  adulterated ;  new  bonds,  similar  to  those  we  call 
"  preferred,"  were  issued;  men,  enriched  by  speculatiniT:  upon 
the  necessities  of  the  government,  were  squeezed  until  they  gave 
up  their  millions.  If  a  man  was  very  rich,  and  not  a  nobleman, 
it  was  enough ;  the  Bastile,  the  pillory,  and  confiscation  ex- 
tracted from  him  the  wherewith  to  supply  the  regent's  drunken 
orgies,  the  extravagance  of  his  mistresses,  and  the  pay  of  his 
troops.  Servants  accused  their  masters  of  possessing  a  secret 
hoard,  and  were  rewarded  for  their  perfidy  with  one-half  of  it. 
Hich  men,  trying  to  escape  from  the  kingdom  with  their  prop- 
erty, were  hunted  down  and  brought  back  to  prison  and  to  ruin. 
Once  they  seized  fourteen  kegs  of  gold  coin,  hidden  in  fourteen 
pipes  of  wine,  just  as  the  wagons  were  crossing  the  line  into 
Holland.  One  great  capitalist  escaped  from  the  kingdom  dis- 
guised as  a  hay-peddler,  with  his  money  hidden  in  his  hay.  The 
whole  number  of  persons  arrested  on  the  charge  of  having  more 
money  than  they  wanted,  was  six  thousand  ;  the  number  con- 
demned and  fined  was  four  thousand  four  hundred  and  ten,  and 
the  amount  of  money  wrung  from  them  was  four  hundred  mil- 
lions of  francs. 

In  the  midst  of  the  consternation  caused  by  this  system  of 
plunder,  John  Law,  then  aged  forty-five  years,  appeared  upon 
the  scene,  and  soon  renewed  his  intercourse  with  the  regent. 
He  told  that  ignorant  and  profligate  prince  that  such  violent 
measures  could  but  aggravate  the  distress  of  the  kingdom,  and 


4,54:  PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

still  more  impoverish  the  government.  His  impeturbable  calm^ 
the  fluency  of  his  discourse,  the  unbounded  confidence  he  had 
in  his  own  ideas,  completely  fascinated  the  Due  d'Orleans,  who, 
at  length,  gave  up  to  his  management  the  disordered  finances  of 
France.  All  the  violent  measures  were  suspended ;  the  rich 
men  breathed  freely  again ;  the  adulteration  of  the  coin  was 
stopped,  and  nothing  more  was  heard  of  the  scheme,  advocated 
by  many,  of  a  formal  national  bankruptcy. 

A  bank  was  Law's  first  scheme,  —  capital,  six  millions  of 
francs,  in  shares  of  five  thousand  francs  each ;  the  shares  to  be 
paid  for  in  four  instalments,  —  one-fourth  in  coin,  and  ^Aree- 
fouTilis  in  royal  bonds  at  their  ]jar  value!  The  regent  sent  an 
order  throughout  the  kingdom  requiring  all  tax-gatherers  to  re- 
ceive the  notes  of  the  bank  in  payment  of  all  sums  due  the  gov- 
ernment. To  the  bank  was  soon  added  a  company,  called  the 
"  Company  of  the  West,"  designed  to  settle  and  trade  with  the 
French  province  of  Louisiana.  Shares  in  this  company  also 
were  purchasable  with  the  same  royal  bonds  at  their  par  value, 
with  the  addition  of  a  small  percentage  in  coin  or  bank  notes. 
A  "  Guinea  Company "  was  also  started,  for  trading  with 
the  coast  of  Africa,  shares  in  which  could  be  bought,  in  part, 
with  the  king's  depreciated  paper  at  the  value  named  upon  its 
face. 

These  schemes  having  been  launched,  the  next  thing  was  to 
impose  upon  the  credulity,  and  inflame  the  avarice  of,  the  pub- 
lic. A  large  engraving  was  posted  about  Paris,  exhibiting  a 
number  of  Louisiana  Indians  running  to  meet  a  group  of  French- 
men with  manifestations  of  joy  and  respect,  and  holding  out  to 
them  pieces  of  gold.  Underneath  the  picture  was  printed  the 
following :  — 

"You  see  in  this  country  mountains  filled  with  gold,  silver, 
copper,  lead,  and  quicksilver.  As  these  metals  are  very  com- 
mon, and  as  the  savages  have  no  suspicion  of  their  value,  they 
barter  pieces  of  gokl  and  silver  for  European  merchandise,  such 
as  knives,  breast-pins,  small  mirrors,  or  even  a  little  brandy." 

Another  picture  appealed  to  pious  souls.  It  represented  a 
crowd  of  naked  savages  on  their  knees  before  two  Jesuit  mis- 
sionaries, with  these  explanatory  words  :  — 


JOHN    LAW.  455 

"Indian  idolaters  imploring  Christian  baptism." 
By  these  and  other  arts  John  Law  wrought  upon  the  igno- 
rance and  cupidity  of  the  French  people.  Other  companies  were 
started,  —  all  upon  the  principle  of  taking  a  large  part  of  the 
jDriee  of  the  shares  in  the  depreciated  paper  of  the  government. 
That  paper,  as  the  mania  increased,  rose  in  value  until  it  went 
far  above  par,  and  gold  was  actually  at  a  discount !  From  the 
princes  of  the  blood  royal  to  the  washerwomen  on  the  quays, 
the  entire  people  seemed  to  abandon  themselves  to  speculating 
in  shares  and  bonds.  Readers  remember  the  stock-joljbing  and 
gold  speculations  in  J^ew  York  during  the  last  two  years  of  the 
war.  Such  scenes,  and  some  far  more  exciting,  occurred  in 
Paris  while  John  Law  was  manas^ins:  the  finances  of  France.  In 
the  Wall  Street  of  the  city,  a  short,  narrow  lane,  the  crowd  was 
so  dense  that  it  was  difficult  to  move  about.  Dukes  and  foot- 
men, capitalists  and  shop-boys,  ladies  of  the  court  and  servant- 
maids,  jostled  one  another  in  their  eagerness  to  buy  the  favorite 
share  of  the  moment.  The  provinces  poured  into  Paris  tens  of 
thousands  of  people  eager  to  join  in  the  maddening  game,  and 
the  mania  spread  at  last  to  all  the  countries  of  Europe.  Kings 
and  princes  of  distant  lands  bought  shares  in  Law's  delusive 
schemes,  and  in  London  the  mania  raged  almost  as  violently  as 
at  Paris.  Money  was  borrowed  in  Paris  at  the  rate  of  a  quarter 
per  cent,  per  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  lender  keeping  his  eyes 
upon  his  watch.  Desk-room  was  let  in  the  vicinity  of  the  share- 
market  for  fifty  francs  a  day.  Shares,  bonds,  and  coin  changed 
in  value  fift}^  times  in  a  morning.  So  popular  was  the  magician 
who  had  conjured  up  this  state  of  things,  that  large  sums  were 
given  for  places  Avhere  he  could  be  seen  in  passing,  and  it  was  a 
distinction  to  be  able  to  say,  "I  have  seen  John  Law."  A  poor 
old  cobbler,  who  had  a  little  shop  in  the  street  thus  suddenly 
invested  with  so  much  importance,  cleared  two  hundred  francs 
a  day  by  letting  chairs  and  desks,  and  selling  pens  and  paper. 
Men  made  fortunes  in  a  few  days.  People  who  were  lackeys 
one  week  kept  lackeys  the  next.  Law's  own  coachman  came 
to  him  one  day  and  addressed  him  thus  :  — 

"I  am  going  to  leave  you,  sir.     Here  are  two  young  men. 


4:56  PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

both  of  whom,  I  answer  for  it,  are  excellent  coachmen.  Take 
your  choice,  and  I  will  keep  the  other  myself." 

This  madness  raged  in  Europe  eight  months,  during  which 
people  thought  the  age  of  gold  had  come ;  for,  while  hundreds 
of  thousands  appeared  to  gain,  very  few  seemed  to  lose.  The 
constant  rise  in  price  of  shares  and  royal  paper  appeared  to 
enrich  everybody'-,  and  ruin  nobody. 

The  reaction,  I  need  not  say,  was  terrific.  When  first  the  sus- 
picion arose  that  all  these  fine  fortunes  were  founded  upon  paper 
of  fictitious  value,  it  spread  with  alarming  rapidity.  By  various 
adroit  manoeuvres  Law  checked  the  progress  of  distrust,  but  he 
could  only  check  it.  The  rush  to  "realize  "  grew  in  volume  and 
intensity  from  day  to  day,  until  it  became  a  universal  panic. 
Paper  in  all  its  varieties  fell  almost  to  nothing,  and  no  man 
reckoned  anything  of  value  except  gold,  silver,  and  real  estate. 
Probably  one  hundred  thousand  persons  in  Europe  were  totally 
ruined,  and  a  million  more  suffered  losses.  The  French  laugh  at 
everything.    Some  wag  at  this  time  posted  up  the  following  :  — 

"Monday,  I  bought  some  shares, 
Tuesday,  I  gaiued  ray  millions, 
"Wednesday,  I  re-furnished  my  house, 
Thursday,  I  set  up  a  carriage, 
Priday,  I  went  to  a  ball, 
And  Saturday  to  the  poor-house." 

John  Law  himself  was  ruined.  Of  all  the  large  fortune  which 
he  had  brought  into  France,  he  saved  but  a  few  thousand  francs. 
The  public  indignation  drove  him  from  the  post  of  minister,  and 
compelled  him  to  leave  the  country.  He  again  wandered  from 
capital  to  capital,  supporting  himself  by  gambling,  and  died  at 
Venice  in  1729,  aged  fifty-eight  years. 


GENERAI^    HENBT    KNOX.  457 


GENERAL   HENRY   KNOX. 


-•o*- 


A  CONSPICUOUS  and  important  character,  in  his  clay,  was 
Henry  Knox,  the  first  secretary  of  war  of  the  United  States 
under  the  present  constitution.  Born  in  Boston,  in  1750,  of 
Scotch-Irish  parents,  we  catch  our  first  glimpse  of  him  as  a  boy 
attendins:  the  Boston  Common  Schools  and  attractins:  the  notice 
of  the  townsmen  by  his  handsome  countenance  and  agreeable 
manners.  John  Adams  speaks  of  him,  in  his  Autobiography, 
as  a  youth  whose  pleasing  demeanor  and  intelligent  mind  had 
won  his  regard  several  years  before  the  revolutionary  war.  In 
those  days  the  boys  who  resided  at  the  North-End  of  Boston 
were  in  perpetual  feud  with  those  who  lived  at  the  South- 
End,  and  many  a  contest  occurred  between  them  on  Saturday 
afternoons.  Young  Knox  was  of  a  frame  so  robust  and  power- 
ful, and  of  a  spirit  so  undaunted  and  adventurous,  that  he 
became  a  kind  of  boy-generalissimo  of  the  South-End. 

As  a  young  man,  too,  he  was  still  distinguished  for  his 
phj^sical  beauty  and  strength.  It  is  related  of  him,  by  an  early 
writer,  that,  on  one  occasion,  in  Boston,  when  a  heavy  vehicle 
emploj^ed  in  a  procession  broke  down,  young  Knox  placed  his 
shoulder  under  the  axle  and  carried  it  for  some  distance  throusfh 
the  crowd.  At  the  usual  age  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  book- 
seller, and  in  due  time  had  a  bookstore  of  his  own  in  Boston, 
which  grew  to  be  one  of  the  most  extensive  in  the  province. 
The  winning  iiianners  of  the  young  bookseller  attracted  to  his 
shop  both  the  professors  of  the  neighboring  university  and  the 
young  ladies  of  the  city,  who  have  always  been  noted  for  their 
love  of  reading. 

From  the  first  hour  of  the  difierences  between  IMassachusetts 
and  the  mother  country,  he  took  the  side  of  his  native  land,  and 


4:58       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OP  BIOGRAPHY. 

was  one  of  the  earliest  promoters  and  members  of  the  Boston 
military  companies,  which,  during  the  revolutionary  war,  fur- 
nished so  many  valuable  officers  to  the  patriot  army.  He 
belonged  to  an  artillerj^  company,  as  well  as  to  a  battalion  of 
Grenadiers,  which  was  greatly  renowned  at  the  time  for  the 
excellence  of  its  discipline.  To  the  Boston  of  that  day  it  Avas 
what  the  Seventh  Regiment  now  is  to  New  York.  Having 
access  to  books,  the  young  man  made  a  considerable  collection 
of  military  works,  which  he  not  only  read  himself,  but  distrib- 
uted among  his  fellow-soldiers.  No  young  man  of  his  day, 
perhaps,  contributed  more  to  the  cultivation  of  a  military  spirit 
and  to  the  accumulation  of  military  knowledge,  among  the 
young  men  of  Boston,  than  Henry  Knox.  Far,  however,  was 
he  from  supposing,  when  he  first  went  out  to  drill  upon  Boston 
Common,  that  the  first  use  he  would  make  of  his  military 
science  would  be  to  contend  in  arms  against  the  troops  of  his 
king. 

Among  the  young  ladies  who  came  to  his  store  to  buy  books 
was  the  beautiful  daughter  of  a  high  official  under  the  Yoyal 
government.  She  was  pleased  with  the  handsome  young  book- 
seller, who,  in  his  turn,  was  completely  captivated  by  her. 
The  parents  of  the  young  lady,  being  in  full  sympathy  with  the 
Tory  administration,  placed  such  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the 
union  of  these  young  people,  that  their  marriage  was  at  last 
efiected  by  an  expedient  that  differed  little  from  a  downright 
elopement.  Her  friends,  it  is  said,  regarded  her  as  a  disgraced 
woman,  since  she  had  allied  herself  with  a  man  who  adhered  to 
a  cause  which,  they  thought,  implied  social  as  well  as  moral 
degradation.  Mrs.  Knox  may  sometimes  have  smiled  at  the 
recollection  of  this  when,  as  the  wife  of  a  cabinet  minister  and 
distinguished  general,  she  was  a  centre  of  attraction  in  the  most 
refined  and  elegant  circle  at  the  seat  of  government. 

The  war  began.  A  continental  army  gathered  around 
Boston,  and  the  first  conflict  between  it  and  the  British  troops 
had  occurred.  On  a  fine  morning  in  June,  1775,  a  few  days 
before  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  Hcnrv  Knox,  beino:  then 
twenty-five  years  of  age,  shut  his  shop  for  the  last  time,  and 
prepared  to  join  the  forces  under  General  Washington.     The 


GENERAL  HENRY  KNOX.  459 

British  commtincler  Iiiid  issued  an  order  th:it  no  one  slu  uld  lake 
arms  out  of  the  city.  Being  resolved,  however,  to  take  his 
sword  with  him,  his  wife  concealed  it  in  her  <:^armcnts,  and  the 
two  walked  together  out  of  the  city,  and  succeeded  in  escaping 
the  observation  of  the  British  outposts.  Before  another  week 
had  elapsed,  Mrs.  Knox  was  safe  in  the  country,  and  her  hus- 
band was  assisting  to  defend  Bunker  Hill,  as  a  volunteer  aide- 
de-camp  to  the  general  in  command.  His  services  just  then 
were  of  the  greatest  value,  since  he  was  one  of  the  very  few 
men  in  camp  who  had  informed  themselves  respecting  the  mode 
of  constructing:  field-works.  He  also  understood  the  handlin2:  of 
artillery.  Washington's  attention  w^as  soon  drawn  to  him,  and 
he  was  immediately  employed  in  the  construction  of  the  system 
of  works  by  which  Boston  was  gradually  enclosed,  and  its  gar- 
rison at  length  compelled  to  put  to  sea.  AVc  find  him,  next, 
elected  to  the  command  of  a  company  of  artillery,  not  only  by 
the  unanimous  vote  of  the  men,  but  with  the  cordial  consent  of 
its  former  captain,  who  felt  himself  too  old  for  active  service. 

Being  thus  in  command  of  an  artillery  company,  his  first 
care  was  to  get  artillery  for  it, — a  task  of  considerable  difficulty 
in  a  country  destitute  of  the  means  of  making  caimon.  The 
first  exploit,  which  drew  upon  him  the  attention  and  the  applause 
of  the  whole  army,  was  his  getting  a  supply  of  cannon  from 
Fort  Ticonderoga  on  Lake  Champlain.  In  the  dead  of  winter 
he  travelled  through  the  wilderness  to  this  celebrated^  fort,  and 
there  prepared  a  long  train  of  sleds  and  gathered  a  drove  of 
oxen.  He  returned  to  camp  in  1776,  with  fifty  pieces  of 
ordnance  on  sleds,  all  drawn  by  oxen,  and  thus  furnished  the 
means  of  armins:  the  field-works  which  he  had  assisted  to  con- 
struct.  Great  was  the  joy  of  the  army  upon  the  arrival  of  this 
train,  and  Captain  Knox  was  the  lion  of  the  hour.  John 
Adams  mentions,  in  his  diary,  being  taken  to  see  the  pieces, 
and  he  evidently  felt  all  the  value  of  the  acquisition,  as  well  as 
the  gallantry  of  his  young  friend  to  whom  it  was  due. 

When  the  British  troops  had  abandoned  Boston,  and  New 
York  became  the  scene  of  warfare.  Captain  Knox  performed 
similar  services  in  defending  the  new  position.  During  the 
operations  on  Long  Island  and  the  subsequent  retreat  from  New 


460  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

York,  he  commanded  all  the  artillery  of  the  army,  and  was  ono 
of  the  ver}'  last  officers  to  leave  the  city.  He  remained,  indeed, 
so  long  as  to  be  left  in  the  rear  of  the  British  troops,  and  he 
escaped  being  taken  prisoner  only  by  going  to  the  river,  seizing 
a  boat,  and  rowing  along  the  shore  as  far  as  Harlem.  His 
comrades  had  given  him  up  for  lost.  When  he  came  into  view 
he  was  welcomed  with  cheers,  and  General  Washington  gave 
him  an  old-fashioned  embrace.  He  had  one  excellent  quality 
of  an  artillery  officer,  —  a  voice  of  stentorian  power.  When 
General  Washington  crossed  the  Delaware,  Colonel  Knox,  it  is 
said,  was  of  the  greatest  assistance  from  the  fact  that  his  orders 
conld  be  heard  from  one  side  of  the  river  to  the  other. 

He  continued  to  serve,  with  zeal  and  ability,  during  the 
whole  war.  He  was  known  in  the  army  as  one  of  General 
Washington's  special  adherents  and  partisans,  and  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, on  more  than  one  occasion,  interposed  his 
authority  in  behalf  of  General  Knox.  When,  for  example,  it 
was  proposed  to  place  the  artillery  in  command  of  a  French 
general,  Washington  gave  so  high  a  character,  as  an  artillerist, 
to  General  Knox,  that  the  scheme  was  frustrated.  Mr.  Adams 
relates  an  incident  which  shows  that  Knox  was  equally  solicitous 
for  the  reputation  of  his  chief. 

"The  news  of  my  appointment  to  France,"  says  Mr.  Adams, 
"was  whispered  about,  and  General  Knox  came  up  to  dine  with 
me  at  Braintree.  The  design  of  his  visit  was,  as  I  soon  per- 
ceived, to  sound  me  in  relation  to  General  Washington.  He 
asked  me  w^hat  ray  opinion  of  him  was.  I  answered,  with  the 
utmost  frankness,  that  I  thought  him  a  perfectly  honest  man, 
with  an  amiable  and  excellent  heart,  and  the  most  important 
character  at  that  time  among  us ;  for  he  was  the  centre  of  our 
Union.  He  asked  the  question,  he  said,  because,  as  I  was  going 
to  Europe,  it  was  of  importance  that  the  general's  character 
should  be  supported  in  other  countries.  I  replied,  that  he 
might  be  perfectly  at  his  ease  on  the  subject,  for  he  might 
depend  upon  it  that,  both  from  principle  and  affection,  public 
and  private,  I  should  do  my  utmost  to  support  his  character  at 
all  times  and  in  all  places,  unless  something  should  happen  very 
greatly  to  alter  my  opinion  of  him." 


GENERAL    TIENKY    KNOX.  461 

To  sum  up  the  services  of  Generiil  Knox  in  the  Revolution, 
it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that,  at  every  important  engagement 
and  during  every  important  operation,  directed  by  the  com- 
Diander-in-chief  in  person.  General  Knox  performed,  perfectly 
to  his  gcneraFs  satisfaction,  the  duties  devolvuig  upon  the 
chief  of  artillery.  From  the  siege  of  Boston,  Avherc  he  not  only 
directed  but  provided  the  artillery,  to  the  siege  of  Yorktown, 
where,  said  Washington,  "  the  resources  of  his  genius  supplied 
the  defect  of  means,"  Knox  was  always  present,  active,  and 
skilful. 

The  war  over,  he  w^as  ordered  to  the  command  of  West 
Point,  and  it  was  he  who  directed  the  disbandment  of  the 
troops.  He  has  the  credit,  as  he  once  had  the  discredit,  of 
suggesting  the  Society  of  the  Cincinnati,  and  the  first  outline 
of  its  organization  is  still  preserved  in  his  own  handwriting. 
Upon  the  evacuation  of  Xew  York,  he  rode  hy  Washington's 
side  when  he  entered  and  took  possession  of  the  city ;  and  at 
the  celebrated  farewell  interview  between  the  i^cneral  and  his 
officers,  Knox  w^as  the  first  man  w^hom  Washington  embraced. 

A  few  years  later,  when  Washington  came  to  the  presidency, 
General  Knox  was  named  by  him  to  the  secretaryship  of  war, 
■ — a  post  which  beheld  for  four  years.  The  reader  is  aware 
that,  during  the  first  term  of  General  Washington's  administra- 
tion, the  two  parties  w^ere  formed  w^hich  have  ever  since,  under 
difierent  names,  contended  for  the  ascendency.  General  Knox 
was  a  Federalist,  and,  as  such,  shared  the  odium  attached  to  a 
party  not  in  harmony  with  the  instincts  of  the  people.  Retiring 
from  office  in  1795,  he  removed  to  Maine,  then  an  outlying 
province  of  Massachusetts,  where  he  engaged  extensively  in 
business.  It  appears  he  was  unsuccessful,  for  in  one  of  Mr. 
Jeffiirson's  letters  of  1799,  he  says  :  "General  Knox  has  become 
bankrupt  for  four  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  has  resigned 
his  military  commission.  He  took  in  General  Lincoln  for  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  which  breaks  him.  Colonel 
Jackson,  also,  sunk  with  him."  The  cause  of  this  misfortune, 
or,  at  least,  one  of  the  causes,  appears  to  have  been  an  exces- 
sive profusion  in  living  and  general  expenditure.  He  died  in 
1806,  aged  fifty-six  years. 


462  PEOrLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAniY. 

Among  his  friends,  both  personal  and  political,  General  Knox 
was  exceedingly  beloved,  since  he  was  of  an  eminently  buoj^ant, 
happy,  and  liberal  disposition.  A  respectable  soldier  and  i 
sterling  patriot,  he  appears  to  have  acquitted  himself  ^vell  in 
the  office  of  secretary  of  war,  and  he  retained  to  the  last  tho 
warm  friendship  and  approbation  of  his  old  commander. 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  463 


ALEXANDER   HAMILTON. 


-•o^ 


In  the  British  West  Indies,  near  that  Danish  group  which, 
they  say,  Mr.  Seward  desires  to  purchase  for  the  United  States, 
there  is  a  circular  island  containing  about  twenty  square  miles, 
named  Nevis.  It  now  contains  a  population  of  eleven  thousand, 
and  produces  for  export  every  year  about  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  sugar.  This  island  has  a  governor,  and  a 
legislature  of  fifteen  members ;  it  has  five  parishes,  and  a  public 
revenue  about  as  large  as  the  salary  of  our  president.  To  this 
island,  a  Scotchman  named  Hamilton  emigrated  about  the  year 
1747,  and  established  himself  in  business  as  a  merchant.  He 
married  there  a  lady  of  French  descent,  the  daughter  of  a  phy- 
sician. The  fruit  of  this  union  was  a  boy,  who  lived  to  be  the 
celebrated  Alexander  Hamilton,  of  American  history. 

The  mother  of  this  distinguished  man  had  a  short  and  unhap- 
py life.  Her  first  husband  was  a  Dane,  a  man  of  wealth,  with 
whom  she  lived  miserably,  and  from  whom  she  was  finally 
divorced.  Soon  after  her  marrias^e  with  the  father  of  Alexander 
Hamilton,  he  became  a  bankrupt,  and  saved  scarcely  anything 
from  the  wreck  of  his  estate.  While  Alexander  was  still  a 
young  child,  she  died,  but  not  before  she  had  made  an  indelible 
impression  upon  the  character  and  memory  of  her  son.  His 
mother  dead,  and  his  father  a  poor  and  dependent  man,  the  boy 
was  taken  home  by  some  relations  of  his  mother  who  lived  upon 
one  of  the  adjacent  Danish  islands,  where  he  learned  the  French 
lansruasre,  and  became  an  easrer  reader  of  books  in  both  French 
and  English.  In  his  twelfth  year  he  was  a  merchant's  clerk  or 
apprentice,  —  a  situation  little  to  his  taste,  but  the  duties  of 
which  he  discharged  with  perfect  fidelity. 

At  that  early  day,  as  at  the  present  time,  it  was  customary 


464  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

for  the  West  Indians  to  send  their  children  to  school  in  New 
York  and  Philadelphia.  One  of  the  earliest  letters  of  Hamilton 
that  we  possess,  is  one  written  by  him  when  he  was  twelve 
years  of  age  to  a  boy  of  his  acquaintance  who  had  gone  away 
to  be  educated  in  New  York. 

"To  confess  my  weakness,  Ned,"  he  wrote,  "my  ambition  is 
prevalent ;  so  that  I  contemn  the  grovelling  condition  of  a  clerk, 
or  the  like,  to  which  my  fortune  condemns  me,  and  would 
willingly  risk  my  life,  though  not  my  character,  to  exalt  my 
station.  I  am  confident,  Ned,  that  my  youth  excludes  me  from 
any  hopes  of  immediate  preferment,  nor  do  I  desire  it ;  but  I 
mean  to  prepare  the  way  for  futurity.  I  am  no  philosopher, 
you  see,  and  may  be  justly  said  to  build  castles  in  the  air ;  m^ 
folly  makes  me  ashamed,  and  beg  you  will  conceal  it ;  yet, 
Neddy,  we  have  seen  such  schemes  successful  when  the  pro- 
jector is  constant.  I  shall  conclude  by  saying,  I  wish  there 
was  a  war." 

This  was  a  curious  passage  to  come  from  the  pen  of  a  mer- 
chant's boy  in  a  little  island  of  the  sea,  at  a  period  so  early  as 
1769.  Certainly  there  was  small  chance  of  "  preferment "  for 
him  in  the  West  Indies,  nor  did  there  seem  any  likelihood  of 
his  transfer  to  a  more  promising  scene.  For  three  years  he 
served  in  the  counting-house,  and  acquired  therein  something 
of  that  knowledge  of  figures  and  that  aptitude  for  finance 
which  he  afterwards  turned  to  so  good  an  account. 

An  accident,  as  it  seems,  decided  his  destiny.  When  he  was 
fifteen  years  of  age  he  had  the  opportunity  of  witnessing  one 
of  those  terrific  hurricanes  which  occasionally  sweep  over  the 
islands  of  the  Caribbean  Sea,  prostrating  in  their  course  the 
works  of  man  and  the  trees  of  the  forest.  He  wrote  a  descrip- 
tion of  this  storm,  which  was  published  in  a  newspaper,  and 
handed  about  iu  the  group  as  a  great  wonder  for  so  young  a 
writer.  His  engaging  manners,  also,  had  made  him  many 
friends,  who,  it  appears,  were  all  of  one  oj^inion,  that  so  valu- 
able a  mind  ought  not  to  remain  uncultivated.  Accordingly, 
he  was  sent  to  New  York  for  education.  On  his  arrival,  he  was 
placed  in  a  school  at  Elizabethtown,  in  New  Jersey,  —  a  place 
where  many  families  of  distinction  then  resided,  whose  acquaint- 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  405 

ance  he  formed,  and  who  were  afterwards  of  use  to  liiin.  In  a 
few  months  lie  entered  the  college  in  New  York  which  was  then 
called  King's  College,  but  is  now  known  as  Columbia  ;  where, 
besides  pursuing  the  usual  course,  he  attended  lectures  upon 
anatomy,  with  the  intention  of  becoming  a  physician. 

At  college  he  was  distingnished  in  the  dc])ating  society, 
and  he  wrote  comic  poems,  ridiculing  the  Tory  editors  of  the 
day.  It  was  while  still  a  student  of  the  college  that  he  made 
his  first  public  address  to  the  citizens  of  Xew  York.  His  son 
tells  us  that  he  was  then  accustomed  to  walk  several  hours  each 
day  under  the  shade  of  some  noble  trees  which  stood  in  Batteau 
Street  (now  called  Dey  Street)  talking  to  himself,  or  deeply 
meditating  upon  the  mighty  events  transpiring  about  him.  This 
stransre  habit  attracted  the  attention  of  those  who  lived  near,  to 
whom  he  was  only  known  as  "the  young 'West  Indian,"  and 
some  of  them  engaged  him  in  conversation,  and  thus  discovered 
the  vigor  and  maturity  of  his  mind.  A  great  political  meeting 
was  to  be  held  in  the  city,  to  which  all  the  Whigs  were  looking 
forward  with  eager  expectation,  and  his  new  friends,  who  had 
been  struck  with  his  patriotic  sentiments,  urged  him  to  address 
this  meeting.  At  first  he  recoiled  from  the  ordeal ;  but,  as  the 
meeting  went  on,  and  several  important  points  remained  un- 
touched by  the  speakers,  he  took  courage,  and  presented  him- 
self to  the  people.  His  son  says,  in  his  biography  of  Ham- 
ilton :  — 

"The  novelty  of  the  attempt,  his  youthful  countenance,  his 
slender  and  diminutive  form,  awakened  curiosity  and  arrested 
attention.  Overawed  by  the  scene  before  him,  he  at  first  hesi- 
tated and  faltered ;  but  as  he  proceeded  almost  unconsciously  to 
utter  his  accustomed  reflections,  his  mind  warmed  with  the 
theme,  his  energies  were  recovered ;  and,  after  a  discussion, 
clear,  cogent,  and  novel,  of  the  great  princii^les  involved  in  the 
controversy,  he  depicted  in  glowing  colors,  the  long-continued 
and  long-endured  oppressions  of  the  mother  country  ;  he  in- 
sisted on  the  duty  of  resistance,  pointed  to  the  means  and  cer- 
tainty of  success,  and  described  the  waves  of  the  rebellion 
sparkling  with  fire  and  washing  back  on  the  shores  of  England 
the  wrecks  of  her  power,  her  wealth,  and  her  glory.  The 
30 


4.66  PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGEAPHY. 

breathless  silence  ceased  as  be  closed ;  and  the  whispered  mur* 
mur,  —  *It  is  a  collegian  —  it  is  a  collegian  ! '  was  lost  in  loud 
expressions  of  wonder  and  applause  at  the  extraordinary  elo- 
quence of  the  young  stranger." 

He  was  then  but  seventeen  years  of  age,  and  yet  from  that 
time  to  the  end  of  his  life  he  could  be  considered  a  public  inan. 
While  still  in  college,  he  was  one  of  a  military  company  who 
used  to  drill  in  a  part  of  the  city  very  near  where  Harper's  book- 
store now  stands.  The  company  were  called  "  Hearts  of  Oak," 
and  it  was  this  youthful  baud  which  removed  the  cannon  from 
the  Battery,  under  the  fire  of  a  British  man-of-war,  that  killed 
several  citizens  and  one  of  Hamilton's  own  comrades.  This 
was  the  first  conflict  of  arms  which  took  place  in  the  State  of 
New  York.  At  nineteen  he  was  captain  of  artillery,  and  em- 
ployed part  of  his  last  remittance  from  home  in  equipping  his 
company. 

The  most  important  event  in  this  part  of  his  life  was  his  at- 
tracting the  notice  of  General  "Washington.  Soon  after  the 
retreat  from  New  York,  when  the  American  army  occupied  the 
upper  part  of  Manhattan  Island,  Hamilton  was  employed  in 
constructing  an  earthwork.  Washington  noticed  the  alert  and 
vigorous  young  officer,  and  marked  the  intelligence  and  skill 
which  he  was  displaying  in  the  erection  of  his  fort.  The  gen- 
eral entered  into  conversation  w4th  him,  invited  him  to  head- 
quarters, and  thus  began  a  friendship  with  him  which,  with  the 
exception  of  one  brief  interval,  terminated  only  with  the 
general's  life.  During  the  terrible  New  Jersey  campaign, 
Hamilton's  artillerymen  did  excellent  service  in  the  rear  of  the 
army,  checking  the  advance  of  the  British ;  and  by  the  time 
the  battle  of  Trenton  turned  the  tide  of  ill-fortune,  the  company 
was  reduced  to  twenty-five  men. 

Ere  long.  General  Washington  invited  Captain  Hamilton  to 
accept  a  position  on  his  stafi*,  which  Hamilton  did,  to  his  lasting 
regret.  His  quick  and  ardent  mind  fretted  under  the  caution 
and  delay  necessitated  by  General  Washington's  position ;  nor 
did  he  relish  writing  despatches,  when  other  men  were  perform- 
ing service  in  the  field.     This  impatience  and  discontent  led 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  4G7 

finally  to  n  rupture  between  General  "Washington  and  his  aide- 
de-camp,  the  particulars  of  which  Hamilton  himself  has  related. 

"Two  da^'s  ago,"  he  wrote,  in  1781,  "the  general  and  I 
passed  each  other  on  the  stairs ;  he  told  me  he  wanted  to  speak 
with  me  ;  I  answered  that  I  would  wait  upon  him  immediatcl\\ 
I  went  below  and  deliv^ered  INIr.  Tili^hman  a  1-etter  to  be  sent  to 
the  commissary,  containing  an  order  of  a  pressing  and  interest- 
ing nature.  Returning  to  the  general,  I  was  stopped  on  the 
"way  by  the  Marquis  de  la  Fayette,  and  we  conversed  together 
about  a  minute,  on  a  matter  of  business.  He  can  testify  how 
impatient  I  w\as  to  get  back,  and  that  I  left  him  in  a  manner 
which,  but  for  our  intimacy,  would  have  been  more  than  abrupt. 
Instead  of  finding  the  general,  as  is  usual,  in  his  room,  I  met 
him  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  where,  accosting  me  in  an  angry 
voice,  *  Colonel  Hamilton,*  said  he,  ^3^ou  have  kept  me  waiting 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs  these  ten  minutes  ;  I  must  tell  you,  sir, 
you  treat  me  with  disrespect.'  I  replied,  without  Y)etulanc3', 
but  with  decision,  *  I  am  not  conscious  of  it,  sir,  but  since  3'ou 
have  thought  it  necessary  to  tell  me  so,  we  part.'  '  Very  well, 
sir,'  said  he,  'if  it  be  your  choice,'  or  something  to  that  effect, 
and  we  separated.  I  sincerely  believe  my  absence,  which  gave 
so  much  umbrage,  did  not  last  two  minutes.  In  less  than  an 
hour  after,  Mr.  Tilghman  came  to  me  in  the  general's  name, 
assuring  me  of  his  confidence  in  my  ability,  integrity,  useful- 
ness, etc.,  and  of  his  desire,  in  a  candid  conversation,  to  heal  a 
difference  which  could  not  have  happened  but  in  a  moment  of 
passion.  I  requested  Mr.  Tilghman  to  tell  him,  first,  that  I 
had  taken  my  resolution  in  a  manner  not  to  be  revoked." 

The  truth  was  that  Hamilton  was  burning  for  active  service, 
and  was  glad  of  an  excuse  for  retiring  from  a  position  which 
was  little  more  attractive  to  him  than  that  of  a  clerk.  His  de- 
sires were  soon  gratified. 

During  the  revolutionary  war  he  was  so  lucky  as  to  win  the 
hand  and  heart  of  one  of  the  daughters  of  General  Schuyler, 
the  head  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished  and  powerful  families 
in  the  State  of  New  York ;  and  it  was  this  fortunate  marriage 
which  first  gave  to  his  position  in  America  something  of  con- 
sistence and  stability.    Retiring  from  the  triumph  of  Yorktown, 


468  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

in  which  he  bore  a  gallant  part,  and  won  the  admiration  of  both 
the  French  and  the  American  armies,  he  abandoned  his  former 
intention  of  becoming  a  doctor,  and  began  the  study  of  the  law 
at  Albany,  where  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  He  settled  in 
New  York,  where  he  soon  shared  with  Aaron  Burr  the  cream 
of  the  New  York  practice,  but  was  speedily  called  away  to  the 
service  of  the  public.  In  the  convention  which  formed  our 
present  constitution  he  was  one  of  the  youngest,  and  yet  one 
of  the  most  influential  members.  When  Washington  came  to 
the  presidency,  one  of  his  first  acts  was  to  name  the  young 
West  Indian  —  then  but  thirty-three  years  of  age  —  to  the  most 
difficult  post  in  his  administration,  that  of  secretary  of  the 
treasury.  From  this  position,  after  four  years  of  service,  he 
was  compelled  to  retire,  because  the  salary  would  not  support 
his  family.  Albert  Gallatin,  who  became  secretary  of  the 
treasury  twenty  years  after,  said  that  Alexander  Hamilton  had 
so  regulated  the  business  of  the  office,  as  to  make  it  a  sinecure 
for  his  successors;  and,  I  have  been  informed,  that  as  late  as 
1860,  the  business  continued  to  be  done  upon  the  plans  and 
methods  established  by  Hamilton  at  the  beginning  of  the  gov- 
ernment. He  returned  to  the  practice  of  his  profession  in  New 
York,  where,  for  many  years,  he  shone  without  a  peer,  and 
with  only  one  rival,  — the  man  to  whom  he  owed  his  death.  lu 
the  year  1804,  in  his  forty-seventh  year,  he  fell  at  Weehawken. 
in  a  duel  with  Aaron  Burr. 

Both  in  public  and  in  private  life  Hamilton  exhibited  shining 
virtues,  and  committed,  as  I  think,  deplorable  errors.  His 
chief  fault,  as  a  private  citizen,  was  licentiousness,  to  which  he 
appears  to  have  been  grossly  addicted.  As  a  public  man,  he 
was  what  we  should  now  call  an  extreme  conservative.  He 
thought  the  British  government  the  best  possible  government, 
and  he  strove  in  all  ways  to  make  the  American  government 
like  it.  No  faith  had  Alexander  Hamilton  in  the  capacity  of 
the  American  people,  or  any  people,  to  govern  themselves. 
This,  however,  was  only  an  error  of  the  understanding ;  for  a 
purer  patriotism  than  his  never  burned  in  the  breast  of  a  human 
beino^. 


UENEEAL    JACKSON.  4G9 


THE  ATTEMPT  TO  ASSASSINATE  PRESIDENT  JACKSON. 


»o« 


Towards  the  end  of  January,  1835,  Warren  R.  Davis,  a 
member  of  the  House  of  Representatives  from  South  Carolina, 
was  dying  at  his  residence  in  the  city  of  Washington.  Though 
forgotten  now,  except  in  his  own  State,  he  was  a  man  of  note 
in  his  day,  an  able  speaker,  a  member  of  that  clique  of  Southern 
politicians  whose  centre  and  chief  was  Mr.  Calhoun  ;  but  a  man 
so  estimable  that  he  was  held  in  respect  by  many  of  the  opposite 
party.  He  appears  to  have  been  sincerely  persuaded  of  the 
truth  of  Mr.  Calhoun's  nullification  doctrines,  and  gave  them  a 
hearty,  honest  support. 

As  he  was  dying,  Mr.  Calhoun  called  to  see  him. 

"How  are  you?"  inquired  the  senator. 

"To  judge  by  my  own  feelings,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  "much 
better ;  but  by  the  countenances  of  my  friends,  not." 

He  then  begged  to  be  told  the  truth  respecting  his  condition, 
and  the  physician  informed  him  that  he  had  but  a  few  hours  to 
live.  On  hearing  this,  he  instantly  turned  to  Mr.  Calhoun,  and 
beckoned  him  to  come  near  his  bedside. 

"I  hear,"  said  he,  "they  are  giving  3^ou  rough  treatment  in 
the  Senate.  Let  a  dying  friend  implore  you  to  guard  your 
looks  and  words  so  that  no  undue  warmth  may  make  you  appear 
unworthy  of  your  principles." 

The  senator  was  nmch  affected.  A  day  or  two  after,  Miss 
]Martineau,  to  whom  he  had  told  this  story,  was  in  the 
senate-chamber,  and  observed  that,  under  a  very  sharp  attack 
by  Colonel  Benton,  he  exhibited  a  degree  of  patience  and 
moderation  that  was  not  usual  with  him.  For  two  full  hours, 
she  remarks,  he  sat  in  stern  silence,  hearing  his  veracity  ques- 
tioned,  not  moving  a  muscle  of  his  countenance ;    and  then 


470  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

quietly  renewing  his  argument  at  the  point  where  Benton  had 
interrupted  him.  She  attributed  this  to  the  effect  of  his  friend's 
last  admonition. 

Mr.  Davis  dying  w^hile  Congress  was  in  session,  he  had  a 
public  funeral.  The  funeral  of  a  member  of  Congress  at  the 
capitol  is  always  a  solemn  and  imposing  ceremonial ;  but 
peculiar  circumstances  rendered  that  of  Mr.  Davis  eminently 
such.  The  nullification  imbroglio  having  been  settled  without 
bloodshed,  there  was  a  prevalent  desire  to  still  farther  conciliate 
South  Carolina,  and  show  her  that  the  other  States  still  regarded 
her  as  a  sister,  and  were  disposed  to  forget  and  forgive  her 
nullification  vagaries.  This  feeling,  added  to  the  general 
respect  entertained  for  the  deceased  member,  caused  a  larger 
attendance  than  usual  of  members,  judges,  cabinet  ministers, 
and  other  official  persons.  The  president  himself  resolved  to 
attend,  to  give  a  public  mark  of  his  love  for  the  State  of  which 
he  considered  himself  a  native,  and  to  show  that  much  as  he 
abhorred  John  C.  Calhoun,  the  author  of  nullification,  he  had 
no  ill  will  tovrard  his  deluded  followers. 

The  usual  solemnities  were  performed  in  the  hall  of  the 
House  of  Representatives.  On  the  platform  sat  the  speaker  of 
the  House  and  the  president  of  the  Senate ;  below  them,  in  the 
clerk's  seat,  was  the  officiating  clergj^man.  On  the  floor,  in 
front  of  the  clerk's  desk,  the  coffin  was  placed.  On  one  side 
of  it  were  seated  the  president  and  his  cabinet ;  on  the  other 
were  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  and  the  senators.  The 
members  of  the  House  were  in  their  usual  seats,  and  the  gal- 
leries were  crowded  with  spectators.  It  was  remarked  that,  in 
the  accidental  arrangement  of  the  seats,  Andrew  Jackson  and 
John  C.  Calhoun,  mortal  foes  as  they  were,  were  so  placed  that 
they  sat  opposite  to  one  another,  almost  knee  to  knee.  Both 
were  gaunt  and  sallow  with  disease  or  age.  They  could  not 
look  up  without  seeing  what  ravages  time  and  excitement  had 
made  in  one  another's  countenances  since  they  used  to  meet  as 
the  most  cordial  of  friends.  The  president,  especially,  looked 
so  feeble,  as  he  sat  leaning  on  his  stick,  that  many  who  were 
near  him  feared  he  Avould  not  be  able  to  remain  until  the 
ceremonies  ended.     He  was  then  sixty-eight  years  of  age ;  his 


GENERAL    JACKSON.  471 

Gristiing  hair  was  as  white  as  snow;  and  old  wounds,  received 
in  his  duel  with  Dickinson  and  in  his  affray  with  the  Bentons, 
had  brought  on  premature  old  age. 

The  clergyman,  in  his  funeral  discourse,  dwelt  upon  the  folly 
of  allowing  evil  passions  and  personal  hatreds  to  mingle  in  the 
deliberations  of  the  national  legisUiture,  and  called  upon  his 
hearers  to  bury  such  feelings  in  the  grave  of  their  departed 
associate.  General  Jackson,  who  was  alwaj^s  very  attentive  at 
church,  and  particularly  liked  a  good  sermon,  listened  to  these 
remarks  with  apparent  satisfaction. 

The  service  over,  the  procession  was  formed  to  accompany 
the  body  to  its  last  resting-place  in  the  congressional  burjing- 
ground.  At  some  little  distance  behind  the  cofEn  walked  the 
president,  with  a  member  of  his  cabinet  on  each  side  of  him. 
He  leaned  heavily  on  his  long,  stout,  black  walking-stick,  and  it 
was  evident  that  the  slow  funereal  step  was  one  that  suited  well 
his  enfeebled  frame.  Across  the  great  rotunda  of  the  capitol 
the  procession  marched.  The  body  had  been  borne  down  the 
lofty  flight  of  marble  steps  in  front  of  the  building ;  the  presi- 
dent, with  his  two  companions,  had  just  reached  the  door,  and 
was  about  to  step  out  upon  the  portico,  where  a  path  between 
two  dense  masses  of  spectators  had  beeu  kept  clear  by  the 
police. 

At  the  moment  when  the  white  head  of  the  president  appeared 
in  the  doorway,  towering  above  the  gentlemen  around  and  be- 
hind him,  a  man  stepped  from  the  crowd  into  the  open  space  in 
front  of  the  president,  and  stopped  at  the  distance  of  eight  feet 
from  him.  He  had  a  cloak  on,  which  covered  his  arms.  Pre- 
senting a  pistol  full  at  the  breast  of  the  president,  he  pulled  the 
trigger.  The  cap  exploded  with  a  loud  report,  but  the  pistol 
missed  fire.  The  man  instantly  dropped  the  pistol,  and  took 
another,  which  he  had  in  his  left  hand,  cocked,  and  concealed 
under  his  cloak.  This  also  he  attempted  to  fire,  but  the  cap 
exploded  without  discharging  the  pistol.  This  double  fiiilure 
was  very  remarkable,  since  the  pistols  were  found  to  be  in  per- 
fect order  and  properly  loaded  ;  and  when  provided  with  other 
caps  never  missed  fire,  though  the  experiment  was  repeated 
twenty  times. 


472  PEOPLE'S      BOOK      OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

As  soon  as  General  Jackson  perceived  the  man's  object,  all 
the  warrior  was  roused  within  him,  and  he  rushed  upon  the 
assassin  with  uplifted  cane  and  blazing  e^'e.  The  man  shrank 
back  from  the  blow  and  attempted  to  escape.  A  young  naval 
officer,  who  was  standing  near,  knocked  him  down,  and  he  was 
immediately  secured  and  taken  to  prison.  The  president,  who, 
during  his  recent  war  upon  the  Bank  of  the  United  States,  had 
often  been  vaguely  threatened  with  assassinalion,  jumped  to  the 
conclusion  that  this  attempt  was  prompted  by  his  political 
enemies.  Possessed  with  this  idea,  he  was  so  transported  with 
furj^,  that  his  friends,  seeing  the  impossibility  of  his  taking  part 
in  the  remaining  solemnities  of  the  funeral,  hurried  him  into  his 
carriage,  and  had  him  driven  rapidly  home  to  the  White  House, 
—  a  distance  of  two  miles.  He  continued  to  protest  that  the 
assassin  was  only  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies ;  and  he 
even  went  so  far  as  to  name  one  distinguished  member  of  Con- 
gress as  the  head  of  the  conspiracy. 

The  prisoner  was  immediately  examined.  He  gave  his  name 
as  Eichard  Lawrence;  by  birth  English,  though  a  resident  of 
the  United  States  from  boyhood  ;  by  trade,  a  house-painter  ;  age, 
about  twenty-five.  He  appeared  utterly  unconcerned  as  to  his 
crime  and  its  consequences;  and,  though  freely  acknowledging 
that  he  had  attempted  to  kill  the  president,  refused  to  make  any 
explanation  as  to  his  motives.  The  impression  made  upon  the 
court  was  that  he  was  either  a  madman  or  a  most  cunning  dis- 
sembler;  and,  accordingly,  the  marshal  of  the  district  requested 
two  of  the  leading  physicians  of  Washington  to  examine  him 
privately  and  report  upon  his  mental  condition.  To  these  gen- 
tlemen the  prisoner  was  sufficiently  communicative. 

The  examination  of  this  man  has  always  struck  me  as  being  a 
very  curious  chapter  in  the  natural  history  of  insanity.  Insane 
he  certainly  was ;  but  insane  only  in  some  parts  of  his  mind. 
In  the  very  act  of  attempting  to  kill  the  president,  he  was 
influenced  by  a  regard  for  the  safety  of  others,  and  even  by  a 
respect  for  the  proprieties  of  the  occasion.  When  asked  why 
he  did  not  fire  at  the  president  before  the  ceremony  began,  at  a 
certain  moment  when  he  had  an  excellent  opportunity,  he 
replied,  that  he  did  not  wish  to  interrupt  the  funeral,  and  there- 


GENERAL    JACKSON.  473 

fore  clotcrmined  to  wait  till  it  was  over.  The  following  passage 
of  the  physician's  report  reveals  a  strange  blending  of  sanity  and 
insanity  in  the  same  brain  :  — 

"He  further  stated  that  he  aimed  each  pistol  at  the  president's 
heart,  and  intended,  if  the  first  pistol  had  gone  off,  and  the 
president  had  fallen,  to  have  defended  himself  with  the  second, 
if  defence  had  been  necessary.  On  being  asked  if  he  did  not 
expect  to  have  been  killed  on  the  spot,  if  he  had  killed  the 
president,  he  replied  he  did  not;  and  that  he  had  no  doul)t  but 
that  he  would  have  been  protected  by  the  spectators.  He  was 
frequently  questioned  whether  he  had  any  friends  present,  from 
whom  he  expected  protection.  To  this  he  replied,  that  he  never 
bad  mentioned  his  intention  to  any  one,  and  that  no  one  in  par- 
ticular knew  his  design  ;  but  that  he  presumed  it  Avas  generally 
known  that  he  intended  to  put  the  president  out  of  the  way. 
He  further  stated,  that  when  the  president  arrived  at  the  door, 
near  which  he  stood,  finding  him  supported  on  the  left  by  ]Mr. 
"Woodbury,  and  observing  many  persons  in  his  rear,  and  being 
himself  rather  to  the  right  of  the  president,  in  order  to  avoid 
wounding  Mr.  Woodbury,  and  those  in  the  rear,  he  stepped  a 
little  to  his  own  right,  so  that  should  the  ball  pass  through  the 
body  of  the  president,  it  would  be  received  by  the  door-frame, 
or  stone  wall.  On  being  asked  if  he  felt  no  trepidation  during 
the  attempt,  he  replied,  not  the  slightest,  until  he  found  that 
the  second  pistol  had  missed  fire.  Then  observing  that  the 
president  was  advancing  upon  him,  with  an  uplifted  cane,  he 
feared  that  it  contained  a  sword,  which  might  have  been  thrust 
through  him  before  he  could  have  been  protected  by  the  crowd. 
And  when  interros^ated  as  to  the  motive  which  induced  him  to 
attempt  the  assassination  of  the  president,  he  replied,  that  ho 
had  been  told  that  the  president  had  caused  his  loss  of  occupa- 
tion, and  the  consequent  want  of  money,  and  he  believed  that 
to  put  him  out  of  the  way  was  the  only  remedy  for  this  evil." 

From  statements  of  this  nature  he  would  ramble  into  pure 
madness,  saying  that  his  family  had  been  wrongfully  deprived 
of  the  throne  of  England,  which  he  expected  to  regain  ;  that  he 
looked  upon  the  President  of  the  United  States  mereh'  as  his 
clerk;  and  that  the  powers  of  Europe  would  not  permit  the 


4:74      PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHT. 

United  States  to  punisli  him  for  what  he  had  done.  The  most 
conclusive  indication  of  insanity  was  his  perfect  tranquillity  of 
pulse  and  demeanor ;  a  thing  impossible  to  feign  successfully  in 
such  circumstances  and  before  men  of  experience.  The  full 
report  of  the  physicians  was  so  convincing  as  to  the  insanity  of 
the  prisoner  that  he  was  not  even  brought  to  trial,  but  was 
immediately  placed  in  an  asylum.  The  man  had  been  long  out 
of  work ;  and  hearing  on  all  sides  the  fiercest  denunciations  of 
General  Jackson  as  the  cause  both  of  his  own  and  the  public 
misfortunes,  the  project  of  killing  him  gradually  fastened  itself 
in  a  mind  predisposed  to  iusanit}^  and  still  further  impaired  by 
brooding  over  his  unhappy  condition. 

There  was  one  individual  in  the  United  States  npon  whom 
the  physician's  report  made  no  impression,  namely,  Andrew 
Jackson  ;  and  there  were  not  wanting  base  creatures  to  confirm 
him  in  his  incredulity.  The  Globe  itself,  the  organ  of  his 
administration,  did  not  scruple  to  insinuate  that  "a  secret  con- 
spiracy had  prompted  the  horrible  deed."  A  few  days  after, 
Miss  Martineau,  in  a  conversation  with  the  president,  happened 
to  allude  to  the  afiair  as  an  "  insane  attempt."  He  took  fire  at 
the  words,  and  declared  vehemently,  in  the  hearing  of  a  large 
company,  that  there  was  no  insanity  in  the  case,  but  that  there 
was  a  plot  to  assassinate  him,  and  that  Lawrence  was  the  tool 
of  a  band  of  conspirators.  The  lady  was  silent,  and  changed 
the  conversation.  The  truth  was,  that  General  Jackson,  en- 
feebled by  age  and  disease,  worn  down  by  seven  years  of  cease- 
less excitement,  had  become  so  morbid  on  some  points  as  not  to 
be  himself  of  perfectly  sound  judgment. 


LA    FAYETTE.  47i 


;> 


LA  FAYETTE. 


-•o^ 


In  the  year  1730  there  appeared  m  Paris  a  little  volume 
entitled,  "Philosophic  Letters,"  which  proved  to  be  one  of  the 
most  influential  books  produced  in  modern  times. 

It  was  written  by  Voltaire,  who  was  then  thirty-six  years  of 
age,  and  contained  the  results  of  his  observations  upon  the 
English  nation,  in  which  he  had  resided  for  two  years.  Paris 
was  then  as  far  from  London,  for  all  practicable  purposes,  as  New 
York  now  is  from  Calcutta ;  so  that  when  Voltaire  told  his 
countrymen  of  the  freedom  that  prevailed  in  England,  —  of  the 
tolerance  given  to  the  religious  sects,  —  of  the  honors  paid  to 
untitled  merit,  —  of  Newton,  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey 
with  almost  regal  pomp,  —  of  Addison,  Secretary  of  State,  and 
Swift,  familiar  with  prime  ministers, — and  of  the  general 
liberty,  happiness,  and  abundance  of  the  kingdom,  —  Franco 
listened  in  wonder  as  to  a  new  revelation.  The  work  was,  of 
course,  immediately  placed  under  the  ban  by  the  French 
government,  and  the  author  exiled,  which  only  gave  it 
increased  currency  and  deeper  influence. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  movement  which  produced,  at 
length,  the  French  Revolution  of  1787,  and  which  will  continue 
imtil  France  is  blessed  with  a  free  and  constitutional  govern- 
ment. It  began  in  the  higher  classes  of  the  people,  for  at  that 
day  not  more  than  one-third  of  the  French  could  read  at  all ; 
and  a  much  smaller  fraction  could  read  such  a  work  as  the 
"Philosophic  Letters,"  and  the  books  which  it  called  forth. 
Republicanism  was  fashionable  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  Paris 
for  many  years  before  the  mass  of  the  people  knew  what  the 
word  meant. 

Among  the  young  noblemen  who  were  early  smitten  in  the 


476  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

midst  of  a  despotism  with  the  love  of  liberty  was  the  Marquis 
de  La  Fayette,  born  in  1757.  Few  families  in  Europe  could 
boast  a  greater  antiquity  than  his.  A  century  before  the  dis- 
covery of  America,  we  find  the  La  Fayettes  spoken  of  as  an 
"  ancient  house  ;  "  and  in  every  generation,  at  least,  one  member 
of  the  family  had  distinguished  himself  by  his  services  to  his 
king.  This  young  man,  coming  upon  the  stage  of  life  when 
republican  ideas  were  teeming  in  every  cultivated  mind,  em- 
braced them  with  all  the  ardor  of  youth  and  intelligence.  At 
sixteen  he  refused  a  high  post  in  the  household  of  one  of  the 
princes  of  the  blood,  and  accepted  a  commission  in  the  army. 
At  the  ao:e  of  seventeen  he  was  married  to  the  dauo-hter  of  a 
duke,  whose  dowry  added  a  considerable  fortune  to  his  own 
ample  possessions.  She  was  an  exceedingly  lovely  woman, 
and  tenderly  attached  to  her  husband,  and  he  was  as  fond  of 
her  as  such  a  boy  could  be. 

The  American  Eevolution  broke  out.  Li  common  with  all 
the  high-born  republicans  of  his  time,  his  heart  warmly  es- 
poused the  cause  of  the  revolted  colonies,  and  he  immediately 
conceived  the  project  of  going  to  America  and  fighting  under 
her  banner.  Pie  was  scarcely  nineteen  years  of  age  when  he 
sought  a  secret  interview  with  Silas  Deane,  the  American 
envoy,  and  offered  his  services  to  the  Congress.  Mr.  Deane,  it 
appears,  objected  to  his  youth. 

"When,"  sa3^s  he,  "I  presented  to  the  envoy  my  boyish  face, 
I  spoke  more  of  my  ardor  in  the  cause  than  of  my  experience ; 
but  I  dwelt  much  upon  the  effect  my  departure  would  excite  in 
France,  and  he  signed  our  mutual  agreement." 

His  intention  was  concealed  from  his  family  and  from  all  his 
friends,  except  two  or  three  confidants.  While  he  was  making 
preparations  for  his  departure,  most  distressing  and  alarming 
news  came  from  America,  —  the  retreat  from  Long  Island,  the 
loss  of  New  York,  the  battle  of  White  Plains,  and  the  retreat 
through  New  Jersey.  The  American  forces,  it  was  said, 
reduced  to  a  disheartened  band  of  three  thousand  militia,  were 
pursued  by  a  triumphant  army  of  thirty-three  thousand  English 
and  Hessians.  The  credit  of  the  colonies  at  Paris  sank  to  the 
lowest  ebb,  and  some  of  the  Americans  themselves  confessed  to 


LA    FAYETTE.  477 

La  Fayette  that  tlicy  were  cliscouraged,  and  persuaded  liiin  to 
abandon  his  project.     lie  said  to  Mr.   Deane  :  — 

"Until  now,  sir,  you  have  only  seen  my  ardor  hi  your  cause, 
and  that  may  not  prove  at  present  wholly  useless.  I  shall 
purchase  a  ship  to  carry  out  your  officers.  We  must  feel  con- 
fidence in  the  future ;  and  it  is  especially  in  the  hour  of  danger 
that  I  wish  to   share  your  fortune." 

He  proceeded  at  once  with  all  possible  secrecy  to  raise  the 
money  and  to  purchase  and  arm  a  ship.  While  the  ship  was 
getting  ready,  in  order  the  better  to  conceal  his  intention,  he 
made  a  journey  to  England,  which  had  previously  been  ar- 
ranged by  his  family.  He  was  presented  to  the  British  king, 
against  whom  he  was  going  to  fight ;  he  danced  at  the  house  of 
the  minister  who  had  the  department  of  the  colonics ;  he  visited 
Lord  Rawdon,  afterwards  distinguished  in  the  Revolutionary 
struggle  ;  he  saw  at  the  opera  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  whom  he  next 
saw  on  the  battle-field  of  Monmouth ;  and  he  breakfasted  with 
Lord  Shelburne,  a  friend  of  the  colonies. 

"While  I  concealed  my  intentions,"  he  tells  us,  "I  openly 
avowed  my  sentiments.  I  often  defended  the  Americans.  I 
rejoiced  at  their  success  at  Trenton ;  and  it  was  my  spirit  of 
opposition  that  obtained  for  me  an  invitation  to  breakfast  with 
Lord  Shelburne." 

On  his  return  to  France  his  project  was  discovered  and  his 
departure  forbidden  by  the  king.  He  sailed,  however,  in  May, 
1777,  cheered  by  his  countrymen,  and  secretly  approved  b}-  the 
government  itself.  On  arriving  at  Philadelphia,  he  sent  to 
Congress  a  remarkably  brief  epistle  to  the  following  effect :  — 

"  After  my  sacrifices,  I  have  the  right  to  ask  two  favors  :  one 
is,  to  serve  at  my  own  expense ;  the  other,  to  begin  to  serve  as 
a  volunteer." 

Congress  immediately  named  him  a  major-general  of  the 
American  army,  and  he  at  once  reported  himself  to  General 
Washington.  His  services  at  the  Brandywine,  where  he  was 
badly  wounded ;  in  Virginia,  where  he  held  an  important  com- 
mand ;  at  Monmouth,  where  he  led  the  attack,  —  are  sufficiently 
well  known.  When  he  had  been  in  America  about  fifteen 
months,  the  news  came  of  the  impending  declaration  of  war 


478  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

between  France  and  England.  He  then  wrote  to  Congress 
that,  so  long  as  he  had  believed  himself  free,  he  had  gladly 
fought  under  the  American  flag ;  but  that  his  own  country 
being  at  war,  he  owed  to  it  the  homage  of  his  services,  and  he 
desired  their  permission  to  return  home.  He  hoped,  however, 
to  come  back  to  America ;  and  assured  them  that,  wherever 
he  went,  he  should  be  a  zealous  friend  of  the  United  States. 
Congress  gave  him  leave  of  absence,  voted  him  a  sword,  and 
wrote  a  letter  on  his  behalf  to  the  King  of  France. 

"We  recommend  this  noble  young  man,"  said  the  letter  of 
Congress,  "to  the  favor  of  your  Majesty,  because  we  have  seen 
him  wise  in  council,  brave  in  battle,  and  patient  under  the 
fatigues   of  war." 

He  was  received  in  France  with  great  distinction,  which  he 
amusingly  describes :  — 

"  When  I  went  to  court,  which  had  hitherto  only  written  for 
me  orders  for  my  arrest,  I  was  presented  to  the  ministers.  I 
was  interrogated,  complimented,  and  exiled  —  to  the  hotel 
where  my  wife  was  residing.  Some  days  after,  I  wrote  to  the 
king  to  acknowledge  my  fault,  I  received  in  rej^ly  a  light 
reprimand  and  the  colonelcy  of  the  Eoyal  Dragoons.  Con- 
sulted by  all  the  ministers,  and,  what  was  much  better, 
embraced  by  all  the  women,  I  had  at  Versailles  the  favor  of  the 
king,  and  celebrity  at  Paris." 

In  the  midst  of  his  popularity  he  thought  always  of  America, 
and  often  wished  that  the  cost  of  the  banquets  bestowed  upon 
him  could  be  poured  into  the  treasury  of  Congress.  His 
favorite  project  at  that  time  was  the  invasion  of  England,  — 
Paul  Jones  to  command  the  fleet  and  himself  the  army.  When 
this  scheme  was  given  up  he  joined  all  his  influence  to  that  of 
Franklin  to  induce  the  French  government  to  send  to  America 
a  powerful  fleet  and  a  considerable  army.  When  he  had 
secured  the  promise  of  this  valuable  aid,  he  returned  to 
America  and  served  again  in  the  armies  of  the  young  republic. 

The  success  of  the  United  States  so  confirmed  him  in  his 
attachment  to  republican  institutions,  that  he  remained  their 
devoted  adherent  and  advocate  as  long  as  he  lived. 


LA  FAYETTE.  470 

''May  this  revolution,"  said  he  once  to  Congress,  "serve  as  a 
lesson  to  oppressors,  and  as  an  example  to  the  oppressed." 

And  in  one  of  his  letters  from  the  United  States  occurs  this 
sentence : — 

"  I  have  always  thought  that  a  king  was  at  least  a  useless 
being;  viewed  from  this  side  of  the  ocean,  a  king  cuts  a  poor 
figure  indeed." 

By  the  time  he  had  left  America,  at  the  close  of  the  war,  he 
had  expended  in  the  service  of  Congress  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  —  a  free  gift  to  the  cause  of  liberty. 

One  of  the  most  pleasing  circumstances  of  La  Fayette's  resi- 
dence in  America  was  the  affectionate  friendship  which  existed 
between  himself  and  General  Washington.  He  looked  up  to 
Washington  as  to  a  father  as  well  as  a  chief,  and  Washington 
regarded  him  with  a  tenderness  truly  paternal.  La  Fayette 
named  his  eldest  son  George  Washington,  and  never  omitted 
any  opportunity  to  testify  his  love  and  veneration  for  the  illus- 
trious American.  Franklin,  too,  was  much  attached  to  the 
youthful  enthusiast,  and  privately  wrote  to  General  Washing- 
ton, asking  him,  for  the  sake  of  the  young  and  anxious  wife  of 
the  Marquis,  not  to  expose  his  life  except  in  an  important  and 
decisive  engagement. 

Li  the  diary  of  the  celebrated  William  Wilberforce,  who 
visited  Paris  soon  after  the  peace,  there  is  an  interesting  passage 
descriptive  of  La  Fayette's  demeanor  at  the  French  court :  — 

"  He  seemed  to  be  the  representative  of  the  democracy  in  the 
very  presence  of  the  monarch,  —  the  tribune  intruding  with  his 
veto  within  the  chamber  of  the  patrician  order.  His  own 
establishment  was  formed  upon  the  English  model,  and,  amidst 
the  gayety  and  ease  of  Fontainebleau,  he  assumed  an  air  of  re- 
publican austerity.  When  the  fine  ladies  of  the  court  would 
attempt  to  drag  him  to  the  card-table,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders 
with  an  air  of  aflfected  contempt  for  the  customs  and  amuse- 
ments of  the  old  regime.  Meanwhile,  the  deference  which  this 
champion  of  the  new  state  of  things  received,  above  all  from 
the  ladies  of  the  court,  intimated  clearly  the  disturbance  of  the 
social  atmosphere,  and  presaged  the  coming  tempest." 

From  the  close  of  the  American  war  for  independence,  to  the 


480  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGRAPHY. 

beginning  of  the  French  Revolution,  a  period  of  six  years 
elapsed,  during  which  France  suffered  much  from  the  exhaustion 
of  her  resources  in  aiding  the  Americans.  La  Fayette  lived  at 
Paris,  openly  professing  republicanism,  which  w^as  then  the 
surest  passport  to  the  favor  both  of  the  people  and  of  the  court. 
The  Queen  of  France  herself  favored  the  republican  party, 
though  without  understanding  its  objects  or  tendencies.  •  La 
Fayette  naturally  became  the  organ  and  spokesman  of  those 
who  desired  a  reform  in  the  government.  He  recommended, 
even  in  the  palace  of  the  king,  the  restoration  of  civil  rights  to 
the  Protestants ;  the  suppression  of  the  heavy  and  odious  tax 
upon  salt ;  the  reform  of  the  criminal  courts ;  and  he  denounced 
the  w^aste  of  the  public  money  upon  princes  and  court  fa^ 
vorites. 

The  Assembly  of  the  Rotables  convened  in  1787,  to  consider 
the  state  of  the  kingdom.  La  Fayette  was  its  most  conspicuous 
and  trusted  member,  and  it  was  he  who  demanded  a  convoca- 
tion of  the  representatives  of  all  the  departments  of  France,  for 
the  purpose  of  devising  a  permanent  remedy  for  the  evils  under 
which  France  was  suffering. 

"What,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  royal  princes  to  La  Fayette, 
"do  you  really  demand  the  assembling  of  a  general  congress 
of  France  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  replied  La  Fayette,  "  and  move  than  tliatJ'^ 

Despite  the  opposition  of  the  court,  this  memorable  congress 
met  at  Paris  in  1789,  and  La  Fayette  represented  in  it  the 
nobility  of  his  province.  It  was  he  w^ho  presented  the  "  Decla- 
ration of  Eights,"  drawn  upon  the  model  of  those  with  w-hich 
he  had  been  familiar  in  America,  and  it  was  finally  adopted.  It 
was  he,  also,  who  made  the  ministers  of  the  crow^n  responsible 
for  their  acts,  and  for  the  consequences  of  their  acts. 

When  this  National  Assembly  was  declared  permanent.  La 
Fayette  was  elected  its  vice-president,  and  it  was  in  that  char- 
acter that,  after  the  taking  of  the  Bastile,  he  went  to  the  scene, 
at  the  head  of  a  deputation  of  sixty  members,  to  congratulate 
the  people  upon  their  triumph.  The  next  day,  a  city-guard  was 
organized  to  preserve  the  peace  of  Paris,  and  the  question  arose 
in  the  Assembly  who  should  command  it.     The  president  rose 


LA     FAYETTE.  48] 

and  pointed  to  the  bust  of  La  Fayette,  presented  Ij}' the  State 
of  Virginia  to  the  city  of  Paris.  The  hint  was  sufficient,  and 
La  Fayette  was  elected  to  the  post  l)y  acclamation.  lie  called 
his  citizen  soldiers  by  the  name  of  National  Guard,  and  he  dis- 
tinguished them  by  a  tri-colored  cockade,  and  all  Paris  imme- 
diately 11  uttered  with  tri-colored  ribbons  and  badges. 

"This  cockade,"  said  La  Fayette,  as  he  presented  one  to  the 
National  Assembly,  "will  make  the  tour  of  the  world." 

From  the  time  of  his  acceptance  of  the  command  of  the 
National  Guard,  the  career  of  La  Fayette  changed  its  character, 
and  the  change  became  more  and  more  marked  as  the  revolu- 
tion proceeded.  Hitherto,  he  had  been  chiefly  employed  in 
rousing  the  sentiment  of  liberty  in  the  minds  of  his  country- 
men ;  but  now  that  the  flame  threatened  to  become  a  dan^ferous 
conflagration,  it  devolved  upon  him  to  stay  its  ravages.  It  was 
a  task  l)eyond  human  strength,  but  he  most  gallantly  attempted 
it.  On  some  occasions  he  rescued  with  his  own  hands  the  vic- 
tims of  the  popular  fury,  and  arrested  the  cockaded  assassins 
who  would  have  destroyed  them.  But  even  his  great  popularity 
was  ineffectual  to  prevent  the  massacre  of  innocent  citizens,  and 
more  than  once,  overwhelmed  with  grief  and  disgust,  he  threat- 
ened to  throw  up  his  command. 

On  that  celebrated  day  when  sixty  thousand  of  the  people  ot 
Paris  poured  in  a  tumultuous  flood  into  the  park  of  Versailles, 
and  surrounded  the  palace  of  the  king.  La  Fayette  was  com- 
pelled to  join  the  throng,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  control  its 
movements.  He  arrived  in  the  evening,  and  spent  the  whole 
night  in  posting  the  National  Guard  about  the  palace,  and  tak- 
ing measures  to  secure  the  safety  of  the  royal  famil}'.  At  the 
dawn  of  day  he  threw  himself  upon  the  bed  for  a  few  minutes' 
repose.  Suddenly,  the  alarm  was  sounded.  Some  infuriated 
men  had  broken  into  the  palace,  killed  two  of  the  king's  body- 
guard, and  rushed  into  the  bedchamber  of  the  queen,  a  minute 
or  two  after  she  had  escaped  from  it.  La  Fayette  ran  to  the 
scene,  followed  by  some  of  the  National  Guard,  and  found  all 
the  royal  family  assembled  in  the  king's  chamber,  trembling  for 
their  lives.  Beneath  the  windows  of  the  apartment  was  a  roar- 
ing sea  of  upturned  faces,  scarcely  kept  back  by  a  thin  line  of 

81 


482  TEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

National  Guards.  La  Fayette  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony, 
and  tried  to  address  the  crowd,  but  could  not  make  himself 
heard.  lie  then  led  out  upon  tlie  balcony  the  beautiful  queen, 
Marie  Antoinette,  and  kissed  her  hand ;  then  seizing  one  of  the 
body-guard,  embraced  him,  and  placed  his  own  cockade  upon 
the  soldier's  hat.  At  once,  the  temper  of  the  multitude  was 
changed,  and  the  cry  burst  forth  :  — 

"  Long  live  the  general !  Long  live  the  queen  !  Long  live 
the  body-guards  !  " 

It  was  immediately  announced  that  the  king  would  go  with 
the  people  to  Paris ;  which  had  the  effect  of  completely  allaying 
their  passions.  During  the  long  march  often  miles,  La  Fa^'ctte 
rode  close  to  the  door  of  the  king's  carriage,  and  thus  conducted 
him,  in  the  midst  of  the  tramping  crowd,  in  safety  to  the 
Tuileries.  "When  the  royal  family  was  once  more  secure  within 
its  walls,  one  of  the  ladies,  the  daughter  of  the  late  king,  threw 
herself  m  the  arms  of  La  Fayette,  exclaiming:  — 

"General,  you  have  saved  us." 

From  this  moment  dates  the  decline  of  La  Fayette's  popularity  ; 
and  his  actions,  moderate  and  wise,  continually  lessened  it. 
He  demanded,  as  a  member  of  the  National  Assembly,  that 
persons  accused  of  treason  should  be  fairly  tried  by  a  jury,  and 
he  exerted  all  his  power,  w^hile  giving  a  constitution  to  his 
country,  to  preserve  the  monarchy. 

To  appease  the  suspicions  of  the  people  that  the  king  med- 
itated a  flight  from  Paris,  he  declared  that  he  would  answer  with 
his  head  for  the  king's  remaining.  When,  therefore,  in  June, 
1791,  the  king  and  queen  made  their  blundering  attempt  to 
escape,  La  Fayette  was  immediately  suspected  of  having  secretly 
aided  it.     Danton  cried  out  at  the  Jacobin  club  :  — 

"  We  must  have  the  person  of  the  king,  or  the  head  of  the 
commandinoj  c^eneral !  " 

It  was  in  vain  that,  after  the  king's  return,  he  ceased  to  pay 
him  royal  honors ;  nothing  could  remove  the  suspicions  of  the 
people.  Indeed,  he  stil]  openly  advised  the  preservation  of  the 
monarchy,  and,  when  a  mob  demanded  the  suppression  of  the 
royal  power,  and  threatened  violence  to  the  National  Guard,  the 
general,  after  w^arning-  them  to  disperse,  ordered  the  troops  to 


LA    FAYETTE.  483 

fire,  —  an  action  'wliich  totall}-  destroyed  his  popularity  and  influ- 
ence. Soon  after,  he  resigned  his  commission  and  his  seat  in 
the  Assembly,  and  ^vithdrcw  to  one  of  his  country-seats. 

He  Avas  not  long  allowed  to  remain  in  seclusion.  The  allied 
dynasties  of  Europe,  justly  alarmed  at  the  course  of  events  in 
Paris,  threatened  the  new  republic  with  war.  La  Fayette  was 
appointed  to  command  one  of  the  three  armies  gathered  to  de- 
fend the  frontiers.  While  he  was  disciplining  his  troops,  and 
preparing  to  defend  the  country,  he  kept  an  anxious  eye  upon 
Paris,  and  saw  with  ever-increasing  alarm  the  prevalence  of  the 
savage  element  in  the  national  politics.  In  1792,  he  liad  the 
boldness  to  write  a  letter  to  the  National  Assembly,  demanding 
the  suppression  of  the  clubs,  and  the  restoration  of  the  king  to 
the  place  and  power  assigned  him  by  the  constitution. 

Learning,  soon  after,  the  new  outiages  put  upon  the  king,  he 
suddenly  left  his  army  and  appeared  at  the  bar  of  the  Assembly, 
accompanied  by  a  single  aide-de-camp ;  there  he  renewed  his 
demands,  amid  the  applause  of  the  moderate  members ;  but  a 
member  of  the  opposite  party  adroitly  asked  :  — 

"Is  the  enemy  conquered?  Is  the  country  delivered,  since 
General  La  Fayette  is  in  Paris  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  he,  "the  country  is  not  delivered  ;  the  situation 
is  unchanged  ;  and,  nevertheless,  the  general  of  one  of  our 
armies  is  in  Paris." 

After  a  stormy  debate,  the  Assembly  declared  that  he  had 
violated  the  constitution  in  making  himself  the  organ  of  an  army 
legally  incapable  of  delil)erating,  and  had  rendered  himself 
amenable  to  the  minister  of  war  for  leaving  his  post  without 
permission.  Repulsed  thus  by  the  Assembly,  coldly  received  at 
court,  and  rejected  by  the  National  Guard,  he  returned  to  his 
army  despairing  of  the  country.  There  he  made  one  more 
attempt  to  save  the  king  by  inducing  him  to  come  to  his  camp 
and  fight  for  his  throne.  This  project  being  rejected,  and  the 
author  of  it  denounced  by  Robespierre,  his  bust  publicly  burned 
in  Paris,  and  the  medal  formerlj^  voted  him  broken  by  the  hand 
of  the  executioner,  he  deemed  it  necessary  to  seek  an  asylum  in 
a  neutral  country.  Having  provided  for  the  safety  of  his  army, 
he   crossed   the    frontiers,    in  August,    1792,  accompanied  by 


484  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY. 

twenty-one  persons,  all  of  whom  on  passing  an  Austrian  post 
were  taken  prisoners,  and  La  Fayette  was  thrown  into  a  dun- 
geon. His  noble  wife,  who  had  been  for  fifteen  months  a  pris- 
oner in  Paris,  hastened,  after  her  release,  to  share  her  husband's 
captivity. 

For  five  years,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  England, 
America,  and  the  friends  of  liberty  everywhere.  La  Fayette 
remained  a  prisoner.  To  every  demand  for  his  liberation,  the 
Austrian  government  replied,  with  its  usual  stupidity,  that  the 
libert}^  of  La  Fayette  was  incompatible  wdth  the  safety  of  the 
governments  of  Europe.  He  owed  his  liberation,  at  length,  to 
General  Bonaparte,  and  it  required  all  his  great  authority  to 
procure  it.  When  La  Fayette  was  presented  to  Napoleon  to 
thank  him  for  his  interference,  the  First  Consul  said  to  him  :  — 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  devil  you  have  done  to  the  Austrians  ; 
but  it  cost  them  a  mighty  struggle  to  let  you  go." 

La  Fayette  voted  publicly  against  making  Napoleon  consul 
for  life,  and  against  the  establishment  of  the  empire.  Notwith- 
standing this.  Napoleon  and  he  remained  very  good  friends. 
The  emperor  said  of  him  one  day :  — 

"  Everybody  in  France  is  corrected  of  his  extreme  ideas  of 
liberty  except  one  man,  and  that  man  is  La  Fayette.  You  see 
him  now  tranquil :  very  well ;  if  he  had  an  opportunity  to  serve 
his  chimeras,  he  would  reappear  upon  the  scene  more  ardent 
than  ever." 

Upon  his  return  to  France  he  was  granted  the  pension  belong- 
ing to  the  military  rank  he  had  held  under  the  republic,  and  he 
recovered  a  competent  estate  from  the  property  of  his  wife. 
Napoleon  also  gave  a  military  commission  to  his  son,  George 
Washington,  and  when  the  Bourbons  were  restored.  La  Fayette 
received  an  indemnity  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs. 

Napoleon's  remark  proved  correct.  La  Fayette,  though  he 
spent  most  of  the  evening  of  his  life  in  directing  the  cultivation 
of  his  estates,  was  always  present  at  every  crisis  in  the  afiairs 
of  France  to  plead  the  cause  of  constitutional  liberty.  He 
made  a  fine  remark  once  in  its  defence,  when  taunted  with  the 
horrors  of  the  French  Revolution  :  — 


LA    FAYETTE.  485 

**  The  lyraniiy  of  1793,"  he  said,  "was  no  more  a  republic 
than  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartliolcmew  was  a  relin^ion." 

His  visit  to  America,  in  1824,  is  well  remembered.  He  was 
the  guest  of  the  nation,  and  Congress,  in  recompense  of  his 
expenditures  during  the  Revolutionary  War,  made  him  a  grant 
of  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  and  an  extensive  tract  of  land. 
It  was  La  Fayette  who,  in  1830,  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  i)lac- 
ing  a  constitutional  monarch  upon  the  throne  of  France.  The 
last  words  he  ever  spoke  in  public  were  uttered  in  behalf  of  the 
French  refugees  who  had  fled  from  France  for  ofiences  merely 
political ;  and  the  last  words  he  ever  wrote  recommended  the 
abolition  of  slaver3\  He  died  May  19,  1834,  aged  seventy- 
seven.  His  son,  George  Washington,  always  the  friend  of 
liberty,  like  his  father,  died  in  1849.  Two  grandsons  of  La 
Fayette  are  still  living  in  France,  both  of  whom  have  been  in 
public  life,  and  will  probably  be  heard  of  again  when  France 
once  more  has  a  public  life. 


486  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 


BOLIVAR. 


-•o»- 


The  reader  perha23S  has  sometimes  asked  himself  why  the 
fertile  countries  of  South  America  advance  so  slowly  in  wealth 
and  population.  In  all  that  continent,  which  is  considerably 
larger  than  North  America,  there  are  but  seventeen  millions  of 
inhabitants,  while  North  America  contains  almost  exactly  twice 
that  number.  Brazil,  for  example,  which  is  about  as  large  as 
the  United  States,  and  was  settled  sooner,  contains  but  seven 
millions  of  people,  and  nowhere  exhibits  anything  like  the  pros- 
perity w^hich  has  marked  every  period  of  our  ow^i  history. 

The  principal  reasons  of  this  difference  are  three  in  number. 
In  the  first  place,  nature  herself  in  South  America  interposes 
mighty  obstacles  to  the  purposes  of  man.  Vast  plains  exist, 
which,  in  the  rainy  season,  are  covered  with  luxuriant  verdure, 
and  in  the  dry  season  assume  the  appearance  of  a  desert.  The 
forests,  owing  to  the  fertility  of  the  soil  under  a  tropical  sun, 
are  so  dense  and  tano^led  as  almost  to  baffle  the  efforts  of  the 
pioneer  to  remove  them.  The  principal  rivers,  which  are  the 
largest  in  the  world,  are  more  like  flowing  seas  than  navigable 
streams.  The  Plata,  for  example,  is  one  hundred  and  thirty 
miles  wide  at  its  mouth,  and  is  full  of  strong,  irregular  currents. 
The  Amazon,  too,  which  is  four  thousand  miles  in  length,  and 
navigable  for  one-half  that  distance,  is,  in  many  places,  so  wide 
that  the  navigator  has  to  sail  by  the  compass.  The  mountains, 
also,  are  precipitous  and  difficult  of  access,  and  contain  thirtj^ 
active  volcanoes.  All  nature,  in  fact,  is  on  a  prodigious  scale, 
and  the  very  richness  of  the  soil  is  frequently  an  injury  rather 
than  a  help  to  man. 

In  the  next  place,  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese,  who  settled 
this  continent,  drawn  thither  by  the  lust  of  gold,  were  little 


BOLIVAR.  487 

calcultited  to  wrestle  with  the  obstacles  which  nature  placed  in 
their  path.  Lastly,  the  Spanish  luid  Portuguese  governments, 
narrow,  bigoted,  ignorant,  and  tyrannical,  for  three  centuries 
cramped  the  energies  of  the  people,  and  oppressed  them  by 
jierciless  exactions. 

"  Three  hundred  years  ago,"  said  Henry  Clay,  in  his  great 
Bpecch  upon  the  emancipation  of  South  America,  ^'  upon  the 
ruins  of  the  thrones  of  Montezuma  and  the  Incas  of  Peru,  Spain 
erected  the  most  stupendous  system  of  colonial  despotism  that 
the  world  has  ever  seen, — the  most  vigorous,  the  most  exclu- 
sive. The  great  principle  and  object  of  this  system  has  been 
to  render  one  of  the  largest  portions  of  the  world  exclusively 
subservient,  in  all  its  faculties,  to  the  interests  of  an  inconsider- 
able spot  in  Europe.  To  effectuate  this  aim  of  her  policy,  she 
locked  up  Spanish  America  from  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and 
prohibited,  under  the  severest  penalties,  any  foreigner  from 
entering  any  part  of  it.  To  keep  the  natives  themselves  igno- 
rant of  each  other,  and  of  the  strength  and  resources  of  the 
several  parts  of  her  American  possessions,  she  next  prohibited 
the  inhabitants  of  one  viceroj^alty  or  government  from  visit- 
ing those  of  another ;  so  that  the  inhabitants  of  Mexico,  for 
example,  were  not  allowed  to  enter  the  viceroyalty  of  Xew 
Granada,  The  ao-riculture  of  those  vast  res^ions  was  so  rei^-u- 
lated  and  restrained  as  to  prevent  all  collision  with  the  agricul- 
ture of  the  peninsula.  Where  nature,  by  the  character  and 
composition  of  the  soil,  had  commanded,  the  abominable  system 
of  Spain  has  forbidden,  the  growth  of  certain  articles.  Thus 
the  olive  and  the  vine,  to  which  Spanish  America  is  so  well 
adapted,  are  prohibited,  wherever  their  culture  can  interfere 
with  the  olive  and  the  vine  of  the  peninsula.  The  commerce  of 
the  country,  in  the  direction  and  objects  of  the  exports  and 
imports,  is  also  subjected  to  the  narrow  and  selfish  views  of 
Spain,  and  fettered  by  the  odious  spirit  of  monopoly.  She  has 
sought,  b}'  scattering  discord  among  the  several  castes  of  her 
American  population,  and,  by  a  debasing  course  of  education, 
to  perpetuate  her  oppression.  Whatever  concerns  public  law,  or 
the  science  of  government,  all  writings  upon  political  economy, 
or  that  tend  to  give  vigor,  and  freedom,  and  expansion,  to  the 


488  PEOPLE'S  BOOK  or  biography. 

intellect,  are  prohibited.  A  main  feature  in  her  policy  is  that 
which  constantly  elevates  the  European  and  depresses  the 
American  character.  Out  of  upwards  of  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  viceroys  and  captains  general  whom  she  has  appointed 
since  the  conquest  of  America,  about  eighteen  only  have  been 
from  the  body  of  the  American  population." 

If  any  reader  supposes  that  the  orator  exaggerated,  I  point 
him  to  the  Island  of  Cuba,  which  Spain  still  oppresses,  and 
where  almost  every  feature  of  the  odious  tyranny  so  vigorously 
portrayed  by  j\Ir.  Clay  still  exists. 

That  Spain  does  not  still  bear  sway  in  the  finest  provinces  of 
South  America  is  chiefly  due  to  the  heroism  and  virtue  of  one 
man,  Simon  Bolivar,  the  founder  and  first  president  of  the 
States,  one  of  which  bears  his  name.  He  was  born  at  Caraccas, 
in  Venezuela,  in  1783,  of  a  family  rich  enough  to  afford  him 
the  most  costly  advantages  of  education.  When  a  young  man, 
he  travelled  extensively  in  the  United  States  and  in  Europe, 
and  learned  to  speak  with  ease,  and  write  with  ability,  five 
languages,  —  Spanish,  French,  Italian,  German,  and  English. 
Returning  home,  he  gave  the  first  proof  of  an  enlightened  mind 
by  freeing  the  negro  slaves  employed  upon  his  estate. 

The  example  of  the  United  States,  in  throwing  off  the  yoke 
of  the  mother  country,  produced  the  most  powerful  impression 
upon  the  oppressed  Creoles  in  South  America.  During  the 
boyhood  and  youth  of  Bolivar,  his  fellow-citizens  rose  four 
times  in  revolt  against  the  Spaniards,  and  four  times  their 
efforts  were  frustrated,  and  the  rising  flame  of  freedom  quenched 
in  patriot  blood.  Instead  of  mitigating  the  oppression  of  the 
people,  the  Spanish  government  bore  more  heavily  upon  them, 
until,  in  1811,  the  people  of  Venezuela  attempted,  for  the  fifth 
time,  to  throw  off  the  yoke.  Bolivar  was  then  twenty-eight 
years  of  age.  Entering  the  patriot  army  with  the  rank  of 
colonel,  he  shared  the  misfortunes  of  General  IMiranda,  and 
again  saw  his  country  drenched  in  blood.  The  Spanish  general 
waged  a  war  of  extermination.  The  very  malefactors  in  the 
prisons  were  organized  into  guerilla  bands,  and  let  loose  upon 
a  defenceless  people,  and  their  places  in  the  dungeons  were 
filled  with  the  most  respectable  and  virtuous  of  the  laud.     The 


BOLIVAR.  489 

cry  of  despair  reached  Bolivar  in  his  exile  at  Carthagena.  Tie 
reappeared  in  his  native  land,  raised  again  the  standard  of 
revolt,  called  his  fellow-citizens  around  him,  and  was  soon  in  a 
position  to  wage  cfTectivc  war  against  the  public  enemy. 

The  Spanish  commander,  exasperated  by  this  new  revolt, 
resolved  upon  the  most  desperate  measures,  which  he  delayed 
not  to  execute.  The  campaign  of  1813  was  one  of  the  most 
terrible  that  ever  desolated  a  Christian  country.  Cities  were 
given  up  to  pillage  and  conflagration.  The  wives  and  daughters 
of  the  patriot  soldiers  were  abandoned  to  the  brutality  of  the 
Spanish  troops.  Prisoners  of  war  w^erc  mercilessly^  put  to  death, 
and  hundreds  of  citizens  were  executed  for  the  crime  of  wishing 
well  to  their  country.  Bolivar,  then  commander-in-chief  of 
the  patriot  forces,  was  compelled  to  issue  an  order,  declaring 
that  no  quarter  should  be  given  to  any  Spanish  captive.  Such 
brilliant  successes,  however,  were  won  by  him  over  the  Spanish 
troops,  that,  in  January,  1814,  he  could  report  to  the  Congress 
of  Venezuela  that  no  Spanish  army  polluted  its  soil.  He  re- 
signed his  commission,  followmg  the  example  of  Washington; 
but  the  congress  insisted  upon  his  retaining  it  until  the  con- 
federated republics  had  expelled  the  foe. 

The  Spaniard  was  not  yet  defeated.  The  campaign  of  1814 
was  disastrous  to  the  cause  of  liberty  in  the  adjacent  countries, 
and  Bolivar  alone,  among  the  distinguished  men,  maintained  a 
firm  countenance,  and  urged  his  countrymen  to  persevere. 
Spain  now  made  prodigious  efforts.  In  the  spring  of  1815,  a 
fleet  of  fifty  ships  arrived,  which  attacked  and  ca[)tured  tho 
principal  seaports,  while  the  new  Spanish  army  ravaged  the 
interior.  Durins:  these  two  terrible  vears,  more  than  six 
hundred  patriot  officers  and  citizens  were  banished  or  put  to 
death,  and  Bolivar  himself  was  compelled  to  fly,  and  take  refuge, 
under  the  British  flag,  in  the  Island  of  Jamaica. 

But  his  great  soul  was  still  unconqucred.  Tho  next  j^ear,  at 
the  head  of  three  hundred  men,  "equal,"  as  he  said,  "in  cour- 
age and  in  patriotism,  as  they  were  in  number,  to  the  soldiers 
of  Leonidas,"  he  appeared  once  more  in  his  native  land.  Again 
the  Republicans  flocked  to  his  standard.  The  campaigns  of 
1817  and  1818  were  triumphant  for  the  patriots,  especially  that 


i90  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

of  the  latter  year.  The  career  of  Bolivar,  henceforth,  was  one 
of  almost  iin])roken  victory ;  and,  after  four  years  of  terrible 
warfare,  the  Spanish  government  was  compelled  to  treat  for 
peace,  and  to  concede  the  independence  of  the  United  Repub- 
lics. Again  Bolivar  resigned  his  commission  as  general  and 
dictator.     In  his  address  to  Congress,  he  said  :  — 

"I  am  the  child  of  camps.  Battles  have  borne  me  to  the 
chief  magistracy,  and  the  fortune  of  war  has  sustained  me  in  it ; 
but  a  power  like  that  which  has  been  confided  to  me  is  danger- 
ous in  a  republican  government.  I  prefer  the  title  of  Soldier 
to  that  of  Liberator;  and,  in  descending  from  the  presidential 
chair,  I  aspire  only  to  merit  the  title  of  good  citizen." 

Spain  renewed  the  war,  and  Bolivar  was  called  again  to  the 
supreme  command.  Three  more  bloody  campaigns  were  neces- 
sary before  the  Spaniards  were  wholly  and  finally  expelled  from 
the  soil  of  Colombia,  by  which  name  the  confederated  republics 
were  called.  In  1825,  Bolivar  once  more  abdicated  the  dicta- 
torship. An  equestrian  statue  having  been  decreed  him  by 
the  corporation  of  his  native  city,  he  declined  the  honor, 
saying :  — 

""Wait  till  after  my  death,  that  you  may  judge  me  without 
prejudice,  and  accord  to  me  then  such  honors  as  you  may  deem 
suitable ;  but  never  rear  monuments  to  a  man  as  long  as  he  is 
alive.  He  can  change,  he  can  betray.  You  will  never  have 
this  reproach  to  make  to  me ;  but  wait  a  little  longer." 

Unfortunately,  the  Creoles  of  South  America,  after  they  had 
expelled  the  oppressor,  were  not  able  to  form  a  stable  and  sat- 
isfactory government.  The  ambition  of  some  men,  and  the 
weakness  of  others,  made  the  young  republics  the  scene  of  con- 
fusion, and,  sometimes,  of  civil  war  ;  and  Bolivar  was  compelled 
again  to  accept  the  supreme  authority.  It  was  the  great  design 
of  his  policy  to  unite  all  the  republics,  both  of  South  and  North 
America,  into  a  kind  of  league,  ofiensive  and  defensive,  with  a 
Supreme  Court,  which  should  decide  such  questions  as  are 
usually  decided  by  war. 

Like  General  Washington,  Bolivar  was  less  jDopular  as  a  civil 
ruler  than  he  had  been  as  a  commander  of  armies.  Diss^usted 
at  length  by  the  calumnies  with  which  he  was  assailed,  he  not 


BOLIVAR.  491 

only  resigned  the  presidenc}',  but  determined  to  leave  his 
country.     lie  addressed  to  his  fellow-citizens  ii  farewell  letter  :  — 

"The  presence  of  a  fortunate  soldier,"  said  he,  "however  dis- 
interested he  may  be,  is  always  dangerous  in  a  state  just  set 
free.  I  am  tired  of  hearing  it  incessantly  repeated  that  I  wish 
to  make  myself  emperor,  and  to  raise  again  the  throne  of  tho 
Incas.  Everywhere  my  actions  arc  misrepresented.  It  is 
enough.  I  have  paid  my  debt  to  my  country  and  to  humanity. 
I  have  given  my  blood,  my  health,  my  fortune,  to  the  cause  of 
liberty,  and  as  long  as  it  was  in  peril  I  w^as  devcted  to  its  de- 
fence ;  but  now  that  America  is  no  longer  torn  by  war,  nor 
polluted  with  the  presence  of  an  armed  foe,  I  withdraw,  that  my 
presence  may  not  be  an  obstacle  to  the  happiness  of  my  fellow- 
citizens.  The  welfare  of  my  country  would  alone  reconcile  me 
to  the  hard  necessity  of  a  perpetual  exile,  far  from  the  land 
which  gave  me  birth.  Keceive,  then,  my  adieus,  as  a  new 
proof  of  my  ardent  patriotism  and  the  particular  love  w^hich  1 
cherish  for  the  people  of  Colombia." 

He  sold  his  estate,  and  was  preparing  to  embark  for  Jamaica, 
whence  he  intended  to  sail  for  Europe,  when  he  received  a 
letter  from  the  government,  giving  him  the  title  of  "  First 
Citizen  of  Colombia,"  and  settling  upon  him  a  pension  of  thirty 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  Before  it  could  be  known  whether  he 
would  accept  these  offers,  he  was  seized  with  a  fever,  of  which 
he  died,  in  December,  1830,  in  the  fort^'-eighth  year  of  his  age. 
His  friends  did  not  doubt  that  his  life  w^as  shortened  by  the 
fatigues  of  w^ar  and  the  mortifications  of  later  3^ears.  Every- 
thing we  know  of  this  brave  and  virtuous  man  tends  to  justify 
the  title  conferred  upon  him  by  his  countrymen,  of  the  Wash- 
ington of  South  America.  If  he  was  less  successful  in  peace 
than  in  war,  it  was  because  his  fellow-citizens,  debased  by 
three  centuries  of  oppiession,  did  not  possess  the  knowledge 
and  virtue  requisite  for  the  founding  of  a  free,  just,  and  stable 
government.  Washington,  too,  would  have  failed,  if  he  had 
not  been  seconded  b}^  able  and  disinterested  men,  and  supjoorted 
by  a  people  long  accustomed  to  revere  and  obey  the  laws  them- 
selves had  made. 


49?  PEOPLE'S    BOOS    OF    BIOGEAPHT. 


GARIBALDI. 


In  these  modern  days  there  have  appeared  so  many  bogus 
"patriots,"  so  many  revolutionists  by  trade,  that  most  people 
have  a  distrust  of  the  whole  tribe.  If  there  is  one  character 
that  is  more  thoroughly  contemptible  than  any  other,  it  is  a 
needy,  idle  man,  who  goes  about  the  world  beguiling  honest 
men  and  laborious  women  of  their  wages  under  pretence  of 
"setting  up  the  standard  of  rebellion"  somewhere,  or  delivering 
some  country  from  "  the  yoke  of  the  oppressor ;  "  getting  good, 
simple  people  into  trouble  and  danger,  while  they  live  in 
luxury  at  a  very  safe  distance  from  the  scene  of  conflict,  and 
receive  "ovations"  from  the  windows  of  splendid  hotels. 

Joseph  Garibaldi  is  no  such  person.  He  is  a  true  patriot 
and  hero  of  the  old  Roman  type ;  simple  in  his  tastes,  frugal  in 
his  habits,  grand  in  his  aims,  and  ever  present  in  the  van  of  his 
followers  at  the  crisis  of  the  fio^ht.  I  know  this  man  from  the 
testimony  of  those  who  have  lived  with  him,  marched  with  him, 
fought  with  him,  starved  with  him,  feasted  with  him,  seen  him 
in  repose  and  in  action,  at  his  cottage  home  and  in  kings' 
palaces  ;  and  that  testimony  is,  that  he  is  a  great,  grand,  strong, 
pure,  aflfectionate  old  hero,  whose  heart  is  set  on  seeing  his 
darling  Italy  free,  independent,  and  happy. 

He  came  of  a  family  of  Italian  sailors.  Both  his  father  and 
his  grandfather  commanded  small  vessels  of  their  own,  trading 
between  Nice  and  other  ports  of  the  Mediterranean  ;  but  when 
Garibaldi  was  a  boy  his  father  suflfered  heavy  losses,  which  com- 
pelled him  to  sell  his  vessel  and  spend  the  rest  of  his  life  in 
navigating  the  ships  of  others.  His  mother,  as  he  always  says, 
was  a  woman  of  the  noblest  character,  who  loved  her  son  almost 


GAKIBALDI.  493 

to  excess,  iinJ  awoke  in  him  those  afTectioiLS  ^vhieli  (jually  con- 
centrated in  a  devoted  and  all-absorbing  love  of  conntry. 

As  a  boy  he  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  an  extreme  tenderness 
of  feeling.  AVlien  he  was  a  very  little  boy  he  happened,  in  play- 
ing with  a  grasshopper,  to  break  one  of  its  legs,  which  afilicted 
him  to  such  a  degree  that  he  could  not  go  on  Avith  his  play.  He 
went  to  his  room,  where  he  remained  for  several  hours  mourning 
over  the  irreparable  injury  he  had  done  the  poor  insect.  But  this 
excessive  tenderness  did  not  proceed  from  weakness  of  character. 
Not  long  after,  while  phiying  on  the  banks  of  one  of  those  wide 
and  deep  ditches  which  they  have  in  Italy  for  irrigating  the  fields, 
he  saw  a  poor  washerwoman,  who  had  fallen  into  the  ditch,  strug- 
gling for  her  life,  and  in  imminent  danger  of  drowning.  lie 
sprang  to  her  assistance,  and,  young  as  he  was,  he  actually  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  woman  out.  He  has,  to  this  day,  a  lively 
recollection  of  the  ecstasy  which  he  experienced  upon  seeing  her 
safe  on  the  bank.  In  affairs  of  this  nature,  calling  for  the  sud- 
den risk  of  one  life  for  the  preservation  of  another,  he  has  never 
hesitated,  nor  even  so  much  as  thought  of  his  own  danger  till 
the  danger  was  over.  Far  as  he  is  from  being  a  boasting  man. 
he  says  this  himself  in  his  modest  way. 

When  he  was  about  fourteen,  his  father  took  him  on  board  his 
vessel,  on  one  of  his  trips  to  Genoa,  and  put  him  at  school  in 
that  city.  The  school,  it  seems,  was  a  very  dull  one,  the  teach- 
ers being  totally  luiable  to  interest  the  boys  in  their  studies  ;  and 
this  active  lad  suffered  intolerably  from  the  confinement  and 
tedium.  He  and  several  of  his  companions  resolved  to  escape. 
Garibaldi  understanding  w^cU  the  management  of  a  sail-boat,  they 
got  possession  of  one,  put  some  provisions  on  board,  and  set 
sail  for  the  open  sea.  But  a  treacherous  abbe,  to  whom  the  se- 
cret had  been  confided,  betra^xd  them,  and  informed  Garibaldi's 
father,  who  jumped  into  a  swift  boat  and  made  all  sail  in  pur- 
suit, and  soon  overtook  them.  They  all  returned  to  school 
crestfallen. 

At  the  usual  age  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  captain,  and  began 
his  career  as  a  cabin-boy. 

"How  beautiful,"  he  once  WTote,  "appeared  to  my  ardent 
eyes  the  bark  in  which  I  was  to  navigate  the  Mediterraneau 


494  PEOPLE'S     BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

when  I  stepped  on  board  as  a  sailor  for  the  first  time!  Her 
lofty  sides,  her  slender  masts,  rising  so  gracefiilly  and  so  high 
above,  and  the  bnst  of  Our  Lady  which  adorned  the  bow,  all 
remain  as  distinctly  painted  on  my  memory  at  the  present  day 
(thirty-six  years  after)  as  in  the  happy  hour  when  I  became  one 
of  her  crew.  How  gracefully  moved  the  sailors  !  With  what 
pleasure  I  ventured  into  the  forecastle  to  listen  to  their  popular 
songs,  sung  by  harmonious  choirs  !  They  sang  of  love  until  I 
was  transported.  They  endeavored  to  excite  themselves  to  pa- 
triotism by  singing  of  Italy.  But  who,  in  those  daj^s,  had  ever 
taught  them  how  to  be  patriots  and  Italians  ?  " 

The  commander  of  this  vessel  was  a  perfect  sailor,  and  under 
him  Garibaldi  acquired  much  of  that  nautical  sldll  for  which  he 
was  afterwards  noted.  His  own  father,  too,  Avith  whom  he  af 
terwards  sailed,  was  an  excellent  seaman.  Garibaldi  can  now 
construct,  rig,  navigate,  and  fight  any  sailing  ship  of  any  magni- 
tude. On  one  of  his  voyages  at  this  period  of  his  life  he  was 
left  sick  at  Constantinople,  and,  war  breaking  out,  he  was  de- 
tained there  a  long  time.  When  all  his  money  was  spent,  the 
physician  who  had  attended  him  procured  him  the  post  of  tutor 
in  a  family,  and  he  taught  three  boys  for  several  months.  "In 
times  of  trouble,"  he  says,  "  I  have  never  been  disheartened  in 
all  my  life,  and  I  have  alwa3^s  found  persons  disposed  to  assist 
me."  Such  men  —  gallant,  open-hearted,  kind,  and  honest  — 
do  find  friends  wherever  they  go,  and  friends  that  do  not  desert 
them  in  their  hours  of  need. 

He  was  a  sailor  in  the  Mediterranean  until  he  was  twenty 
eight  years  of  age,  —  as  handsome,  agile,  and  athletic  a  young 
fellow  as  ever  sang  a  song  on  a  forecastle.  It  was  while  voyag- 
ing among  the  beautiful  ports  of  Italy  that  he  acquired  his 
ardent  love  of  his  country,  and  solemnly  dedicated  his  life  to  her 
service.  A  comrade  having  let  him  into  the  secrets  of  a  society 
of  patriots,  he  eagerly  joined  them,  and  thought  that  the  deliv 
erance  of  Italy  was  at  hand.  ]\Iiserable  mistake  !  The  plot  was 
revealed,  and  Garibaldi  fled  in  the  disguise  of  a  peasant.  It 
was  then  that  the  since  famous  name  of  Joseph  Garibaldi  was 
first  printed  in  a  newspaper ;  but  it  was  in  a  decree  which  de- 
'^lared  his  life  forfeited,  and  set  a  price  upon  his  head  I 


GARIBALDI.  405 

He  saw  Italy  no  more  for  fourteen  years.  During  that  period 
he  lived  in  South  America,  where  he  had  almost  every  kind  of 
adventure  that  a  man  can  have  and  live.  Having  reached  Rio 
Janeiro,  he  first  attempted  the  business  of  a  merchant,  and 
failed.  Soon  he  became  involved  in  one  of  those  wars  between 
Republicans  and  Absolutists  which  desolated  the  countries  of 
South  America  for  so  many  years.  He  fought  on  sea  and  on 
land.  He  was  wounded  and  shipwrecked.  He  commanded 
fleets  and  regiments.  He  was  victorious  and  defeated.  Once, 
being  taken  prisoner,  he  was  cruelly  beaten  with  a  club,  then 
hung  by  his  hands  to  a  beam  for  two  hours ;  during  which  he 
sufiercd  the  anguish  of  a  hundred  deaths,  and,  when  cut  down, 
fell  helpless  to  the  earth.  In  intervals  of  peace  he  was  a  drover, 
farmer,  dealer  in  horses,  and  commander  of  trading-vessels. 
Once,  Avhen  in  a  melancholy  mood,  after  seeing  sixteen  of  his 
most  beloved  Italian  comrades  perish  by  shipwreck,  he  thought 
to  relieve  his  sadness  by  marrying.  He  caught  sight  in  a  window 
of  a  graceful  female  form.  He  knew  not  who  she  was,  nor  to 
what  family  she  belonged ;  but  something  told  him  that  she  was 
the  destined  woman.  A  friend  introduced  him  that  very  day, 
and,  ere  many  weeks  had  rolled  by,  he  was  her  husband.  In 
many  a  rough  campaign  she  marched  by  his  side ;  on  many  a 
voyage  she  shared  his  cabin  ;  and  she  died,  at  last,  of  fatigue 
and  exposure  in  Italy,  leaving  three  children  to  mourn  her  loss. 
The  great,  soft-hearted  Garibaldi  has  ever  since  reproached  him- 
self bitterly  for  having  taken  her  away  from  her  safe  and  happy 
home  to  share  the  lot  of  a  soldier  of  liberty.  Over  her  dead 
body,  he  says,  he  prayed  for  forgiveness  for  the  sin  of  taking 
her  from  home.  She,  however,  had  never  repined,  but  really 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  life  of  battle  and  adventure  which  her  hus- 
band led. 

Fourteen  years  of  such  work  as  this  brought  Garibaldi  to  tho 
memorable  year  1848,  when  all  Europe  was  astir  once  more, 
and  generous  minds  indulged  the  hope  that  the  time  had  come 
for  the  deliverance  of  nations  from  their  oppressors.  Garibaldi 
and  his  Italian  friends,  exiles  like  himself,  sailed  for  Nice,  and 
gave  themselves  again  to  their  country.  During  all  the  long 
series  of  events,  beginning  soon  after  the  flight  of  Louis  Phil- 


496  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

ippe,  and  ending  with  the  perjury  and  usurpation  of  Louis 
Napoleon,  Garibaldi  bore  an  important  and  sometimes  a  con- 
spicuous and  controlling  part.  His  experience  in  South  Amer- 
ica was  the  best  possible  preparation  for  the  kind  of  warfare 
suited  to  Italy.  When  the  successful  villany  of  Louis  Napole- 
on had  ruined  the  cause  of  Italian  independence,  Garibaldi  was 
one  of  the  hundreds  of  brave  men  who  sought  an  asylum  in  the 
United  States. 

At  midsummer,  in  1850,  he  reached  New  York,  where,  of 
course,  he  was  at  once  solicited  to  make  an  exhibition  of  him- 
self, or,  as  we  say,  "  accept  an  ovation."  He  modestly  asked 
to  be  excused.  Such  an  exhibition,  he  said,  was  not  necessary, 
and  could  not  help  the  cause ;  nor  would  the  American  people, 
he  thought,  esteem  him  the  less  because  he  veiled  his  sorrows  in 
privacy.  All  he  asked  was  to  be  allowed  to  earn  his  living  by 
honest  labor,  and  remain  under  the  protection  of  the  American 
flag  until  the  time  should  come  for  renewing  the  attempt  which 
treason  had  frustrated  only  for  a  time.  From  being  a  general 
in  command  of  an  army.  Garibaldi  became  a  Staten-Island  can- 
dle-maker, and  soon  resumed  his  old  calling  of  mariner.  For 
three  years  he  commanded  vessels  sailing  from  American  ports, 
and  made  one  voyage  as  far  as  Peru. 

He  had  left  his  children  at  Nice  in  the  care  of  his  mother. 
Eeturning  to  New  York  from  a  voyage,  he  received  the  intelli- 
gence that  his  mother  was  no  more,  and  that  his  children  were 
without  a  protector.  He  was  allowed  to  return  to  his  native 
land.  To  the  little  property  left  hy  his  parents  he  added  a  con- 
siderable sum  earned  in  commerce  here,  and  he  was  able  to  buy 
a  farm  in  a  small ,  rocky  island  —  Caprera  — on  the  coast  of 
Sardinia.  To  this  island  (which  is  only  five  miles  long  and 
three  wide)  he  removed  his  little  family  in  1856,  and  invited 
several  other  pardoned  exiles  to  join  him.  Some  of  them  ac- 
cepting his  invitation,  they  despatched  a  schooner  to  New  York 
to  bring  to  them  the  improved  implements  with  which  their 
residence  in  the  United  States  had  made  them  acquainted.  This 
vessel,  so  precious  to  the  little  band,  was  lost,  and  the  colony 
was  broken  up.     Garibaldi,  however,  remained,  and  was  resid- 


GARIBALDI.  497 

mg  there,  farming  and  fishing,  when  the  war  between  Austria 
and  Sardinia  ealled  him  once  more  to  the  field. 

Before  he  again  saw  Caprera,  what  wonderful  events  trans- 
pired I  The  bloody  tyrant  of  Naples  driven  from  his  throne  ! 
Sicily  delivered  from  oppression !  jN'ine  millions  of  suljjects 
added  to  the  dominions  of  a  constitutional  king,  Victor  Eman- 
Xtcl  I  All  Italy  one  nation,  excepting  alone  the  dominions  of 
ike  Pope  and  the  province  of  Venetia !  This  was  Garibaldi's 
work.  It  was  the  magic  of  his  name,  the  fire  of  his  patriotism, 
and  his  genius  for  command,  that  wrought  these  marvels. 

The  grateful  king  desired  to  bestow  upon  him  some  splendid 
/eward ;  which  Garibaldi  firmly  refusing,  the  king  prepared  for 
h^m  a  pleasing  surprise  at  his  rocky  home.  After  an  absence 
of  i^et^rly  two  years.  Garibaldi  returned  to  Caprera  in  Novem- 
ber, i8oO,to  spend  the  winter  in  repose.  When  he  approached 
his  hcru'c,  he  saw  no  object  that  he  could  recognize.  His  rough 
and  tangled  farm  had  been  changed,  as  if  by  enchantment,  into 
elegant  grounds,  with  roads,  paths,  law^ns,  gardens,  shi'ubbcry, 
and  avenues.  His  cottage  was  gone,  and  in  its  place  stood  a 
villa,  replete  with  every  convenience  within  and  Avithout.  As 
he  walked  from  room  to  room,  wondcrin":  what  mairician  had 
worked  this  transformation,  he  observed  a  full-length  portrait 
of  King  Victor  Emanuel,  which  explained  the  mystery. 

When  last  this  great  man  spoke  to  his  countrymen,  this  is 
what  he  said  to  them  :  — 

**  The  canker,  the  ruin  of  our  Italy,  has  always  been  personal 
ambitions  —  and  they  are  so  still.  It  is  personal  ambitions  which 
blind  the  Pope-king,  and  urge  him  to  oppose  this  national  move- 
ment, so  great,  so  noble,  so  pure  —  yes,  so  pure — that  it  is 
unique  in  the  history  of  the  world.  It  is  the  PojDe-king  who 
retards  the  moment  of  the  complete  Uberation  of  Italy.  The 
only  obstacle,  the  true  obstacle,  is  this. 

"  I  am  a  Christian,  and  I  speak  to  Christians  —  I  am  a  good 
Christian,  and  I  speak  to  good  Christians.  I  love  and  venerate 
the  religion  of  Christ,  because  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  de- 
liver humanity  from  slavery,  for  which  God  has  not  created  it. 
But  the  Pope,  who  wishes  all  men  to  be  slaves,  — who  demands. 

32 


496  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGPvAPnY. 

of  the  powerful  of  the  earth,  fetters  and  chains  for  Italians,  — 
the  Pope-ldng  does  not  know  Christ :  he  lies  to  his  religion. 

**  Among  the  Indians  two  geniuses  are  recognized  and  adored, 
—  that  of  good,  and  that  of  evil.  Well,  the  Genius  of  Evil  for 
Italy  is  the  Pope-king.  Let  no  one  misunderstand  my  words  — 
let  no  one  confound  Popery  with  Christianity  —  the  Religion  of 
Liberty  with  the  avaricious  and  sanguinary  Politics  of  Slavery, 

"Repeat  that.     Repeat  it.     It  is  your  duty. 

"You  w^ho  are  here,  — you,  the  educated  and  cultivated  por- 
tion of  the  citizenship, — you  have  the  duty  to  educate  the  peo- 
ple. Educate  them  to  be  Christian  —  educate  them  to  be 
Italian.  Education  gives  liberty  — education  gives  to  the  peo- 
ple the  means  and  the  power  to  secure  and  defend  their  own 
independence. 

"  On  a  strong  and  wholesome  education  of  the  people  depend 
the  liberty  and  greatness  of  Italy. 

"  Viva  Victor  Emanuel  I     Viva  Italia  !     Viva  Christianity  !  ^ 

These  words  were  uttered  in  the  streets  of  Kaples  in  1860, 
but  they  constituted  part  of  the  Garibaldi  programme  for  18G6. 
Tbo  other  part  of  it  was  Venetia. 


NAPOLEON  II.  499 


NAPOLEON  II. 


At  eight  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  March  20th,  1811,  the 
discharge  of  cannon  announced  to  the  people  of  Paris  that  an 
heir  was  born  to  the  Emperor  Napoleon.  The  emperor  was 
then  at  the  summit  of  his  power  and  glorj^  and  nothing  seemed 
wanting  to  his  happiness  but  an  heir  to  the  throne.  His  con- 
duct on  this  occasion,  so  important  to  his  ambition,  does  honor 
to  his  character  as  a  man.  When  the  surgeon  came  to  him, 
after  many  anxious  hours  passed  by  the  bedside  of  the  empress, 
and  said  that  he  feared  not  to  be  able  to  save  both  lives,  but 
that  either  the  mother  or  the  child  must  be  sacrificed,  the 
emperor  said  :  — 

"Think  only  of  the  mother,  and  treat  her  as  you  would  a 
tradesman's  wife  of  St.  Denis  Street." 

The  child  was  born  at  length,  and  the  mother  was  also  saved. 
Napoleon  himself  announced  the  tidings  to  the  crowd  of  cour- 
tiers in  the  palace,  exclaiming,  with  joy  and  triumph  in  his 
countenance  :  — 

"It  is  a  Kins;  of  Rome  ! " 

Most  of  the  powers  of  Europe  sent  congratulations  to  him. 
Paris  presented  to  the  new  king  a  cradle  of  crimson  enamel,  in 
the  form  of  a  boat,  surrounded  with  allegorical  figures,  and 
covered  with  the  richest  ornaments. 

Three  years  and  nine  days  elapsed.  The  disastrous  cam- 
paign of  Russia,  and  the  invasion  of  France  by  the  Allies,  had 
completed  the  ruin  of  the  emperor,  and  word  was  brought  to 
his  wife  that  the  enemy  was  approaching  Paris.  She  left  the 
capital  with  her  infant  son,  never  to  enter  it  again  ;  and  never 
again  did  Napoleon  see  his  wife  or  child.  At  Blois,  where  she 
remained  some  time,  the  news  reached  her  that  Napoleon  had 


500  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

abdicated,  and  was  thenceforth  to  content  himself  with  the 
sovereignty  of  Elba.  A  few  days  after,  she  proceeded  to 
Vienna,  the  capital  of  her  ancestors.  She  was  allowed  to  re- 
tain the  title  of  Empress,  and  three  Italian  duchies  were  assigned 
to  her  for  her  future  possession  and  maintenance. 

On  Napoleon's  return  from  Elba,  he  at  once  demanded  his 
wife  and  son  from  the  Emperor  of  Austria ;  but  his  letters  were 
not  answered,  and,  soon,  his  defeat  at  Waterloo  and  his  sur- 
render into  the  hands  of  the  English  separated  the  family 
forever.  There  were  some  attempts  to  claim  the  vacant  throne 
of  France  for  Napoleon's  son ;  but  the  allied  sovereigns  decided 
to  restore  the  family  of  Bourbon,  and  gave  the  throne  to  Louis 
XYIII.  Maria  Louise  entered  into  the  possession  of  the  States 
assigned  her,  and  left  her  son  at  Vienna,  under  the  care  of  his 
gi-andfather,  the  Emperor  of  Austria.  It  was  fortunate  for  the 
young  prince  that  his  mother  had  not  the  direction  of  his  edu- 
cation. Her  conduct  after  her  separation  from  her  husband  was 
far  from  exemplary. 

"I  have  had  to  do  in  my  life,"  said  he,  at  St.  Helena,  "  with 
two  women  very  different  in  character,  —  Josephine,  all  art  and 
grace  ;  Maria  Louise,  all  innocence  and  simple  nature." 

There  was  long  a  belief  current  in  Europe  that  the- son  of 
Napoleon  was  ill-used  at  the  Austrian  court  to  such  an  extent 
as  to  cause  his  j^i'emature  death.  Nothing  could  be  further 
from  the  truth.  The  emperor,  Francis  I.,  an  amiable  old  man, 
became  extravagantly  fond  of  him,  and,  besides  adopting  him  as 
an  Austrian  prince,  with  the  title  of  Duke  de  Reichstadt,  he 
gave  him  the  best  education  possible  in  the  circumstances.  A 
touching  conversation  is  related  between  the  emperor  and  the 
prince.  One  day,  while  the  boy  was  seated  upon  his  grand- 
father's lap,  he  asked  him  :  — 

"  Grandfather,  is  it  not  true  that  when  I  lived  at  Paris  I  had 
pages  ?  " 

''  Yes,"  replied  the  emperor,  "I  believe  you  had  pages." 

"Is  it  not  true,  also,"  said  the  boy,  "that  they  called  mc  tho 
King  of  Home  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  emperor. 

"  But,  grandfather,  what  is  it,  then,  to  be  King  of  Rome  ?  *' 


NAPOLEON    II.  501 

^My  chikl,"  snitl  the  puzzled  monarch,  "  when  3^011  are  older 
it  will  be  easier  for  me  to  explain  what  you  ask  ;  but,  for  the 
present,  I  shall  only  say,  that  to  my  title  of  Emperor  of  Austria 
I  join  that  of  King  of  Jerusalem,  without  exercising  any 
authority  in  that  city.  Yery  well :  you  Avere  King  of  Homo 
just  as  I  am  King  of  Jerusalem." 

The  prince  w^as  educated  by  private  tutors  in  the  course 
prescribed  by  the  University  of  Vienna.  He  was  a  boy  of 
excellent  understanding,  fond  of  his  studies,  and  exceedingly 
diligent.  Until  he  was  fifteen  years  of  age  he  was  allowed  to 
learn  nothing  of  the  exploits  of  his  father;  but,  at  that  period, 
the  system  was  changed,  and  he  was  allowed  to  read  freely  all 
the  important  works  relating  to  the  French  Revolution  and  the 
career  of  Napoleon.  These  works  he  read  with  passionate  in- 
terest, and  conversed  upon  the  events  related  in  them  with  all 
the  ardor  which  we  should  imagine  natural  to  him. 

Once  he  had  the  pleasure  of  a  visit  from  Marshal  ^larmont, 
who  had  fought  so  often  at  Napoleon's  side.  Every  day  for 
three  months,  from  eleven  o'clock  until  two,  the  marshal  w\as 
allowed  to  converse  with  the  prince,  whose  eyes,  it  is  said, 
beamed  with  intelligence  as  the  old  soldier  related  the  emperor's 
wonderful  deeds. 

When  the  revolution  of  1830  broke  out,  serious  endeavors 
were  made  to  induce  the  Austrian  government  to  permit  the 
Duke  de  Eeichstadt  to  show  himself  in  France  and  mount  the 
imperial  throne.  Talleyrand  -went  on  a  secret  mission  to  Vienna 
to  bring  about  this  result;  but  he  was  given  to  understand,  in 
lanccuafire  that  admitted  of  no  mistake,  that  Austria  would  never 
allow  a  son  of  Napoleon  to  reign  in  France. 

According  to  the  usage  of  the  imperial  family  of  Austria,  the 
prince  was  trained  to  arms.  At  seventeen  he  was  a  captain  of 
infantry;  at  nineteen,  he  was  major;  and  at  twenty,  a  lieuten- 
ant-colonel, with  the  command  of  a  battalion.  He  was  fond  to 
excess  of  military  exercises,  and  indulged  the  dream  of  one 
day  distinguishing  himself  as  a  military  commander. 

In  his  twentieth  year,  his  health  began  to  fail.  His  throat 
became  sore  if  he  caught  cold,  and  he  was  subject  to  a  short, 
dry  cough,  which  led  at  length  to  blood-spitting.     His  physi- 


502  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGEAPHT. 

cians  strongly  and  repeatedly  advised  him  to  refrain  from 
exercising  his  regiment  in  damp  and  rainy  weather ;  but,  such 
was  his  passion  for  the  military  art  that  it  required  a  formal 
order  of  the  emperor  to  induce  him  to  follow  their  advice.  Two 
months  of  entire  repose  appeared  to  restore  him ,  and  he  begged 
his  grandfather  to  allow  him  to  resume  the  command  of  his 
battalion.  In  a  moment  of  fondness  the  emperor  consented. 
During  the  rainy  season  of  the  spring  he  was  always  present 
on  the  parade-ground,  and  soon  his  cough  returned,  and  all  his 
old  symptoms  reappeared.  Like  his  father,  he  held  doctors  in 
horror,  and  he  was  deaf  to  all  their  warnings. 

After  an  evening  ride,  in  an  open  carriage,  he  had  a  violent 
discharge  of  blood  from  the  lungs,  which  prostrated  his  strength. 
He  was  taken  home  and,  in  a  few  days,  rallied  a  little  from  this 
extreme  prostration,  and  it  was  proposed  to  send  him  to  Italy. 
But  it  was  too  late.  He  grew  rapidly  worse,  and  died  on  the 
22d  of  July,  1832,  aged  twenty-one  years  four  months  and  two 
days.  The  room  in  which  he  breathed  his  last  was  the  one  in 
which  his  father  had  dictated  a  peace  to  Austria  after  a  trium- 
phant campaign.  A  post-mortem  examination  showed  that  his 
lungs,  originally  weak,  were  diseased  to  such  an  extent  that 
nothing  could  have  prolonged  his  life.  He  was  doomed  from 
his  birth  to  die  of  consumption  soon  after  attaining  manhood. 
He  was  buried  in  all  respects  as  an  Austrian  prince.  A  mag- 
nificent funeral  cortege  accompanied  his  body  to  the  tomb  of 
the  imperial  family ;  and,  according  to  the  barbarous  custom  of 
the  country,  his  heart  was  deposited  in  one  church,  and  his 
entrails  in  another. 

To  this  outline  of  the  prince's  brief  career  I  will  append  a 
liighly  interesting  narrative  which  confirms  its  truth.  Some 
years  ago  an  American  traveller  visiting  Vienna  obtained  by 
chance  some  information  of  the  young  Napoleon's  last  days, 
which  he  published  at  the  time,  but  which  seems  to  me  too 
valuable  to  be  lost  in  that  trackless  sea,  a  pile  of  old  papers. 
This  traveller  says  :  — 

"  Until  my  visit  to  Europe  in  1854, 1  was  a  firm  believer  in  the 
stories  that  were  in  circulation  regarding  the  cruel  treatment  of 
the  son  of  the  great  Napoleon  by  the  Austrians.     A  hurried  visit 


NAPOLEON    II.  503 

to  Vienna  in  the  winter  of  that  year  coiTectcd  these  hnprcssions, 
and  thi'ew  new  and  more  favorable  light  upon  the  history,  tal- 
ents, and  ambition  of  this  interesting  young  prince. 

"I  was  waiting  very  patiently  at  the  Hotel  Munich,  in  Vienna, 
the  arrival  of  my  cicerone,  Max,  of  whose  abiUty,  honesty,  and 
merits  my  landlord  had  been  discoursing  for  the  last  half-hour. 
I  had  but  a  few  days  to  scour  the  city  in  sight-seeing,  and  I  de- 
sired the  leadership  of  one  who  could  do  all  this  in  the  shortest 
possible  time.  Soon  Max  arrived.  In  outward  appearance  he 
was  as  finished  a  gentleman  as  one  might  desire  to  see.  Ilis 
dress  was  faultless,  and  there  was  an  air  of  quiet,  elegant  ease 
about  him.  -Max  spoke  English  almost  faultlessly,  —  an  accom- 
plishment he  had  acquired  while  serving  in  the  capacity  of  valet 
for  an  English  nobleman  in  London,  where  he  had  resided  sev- 
eral years.  It  did  not  take  me  long  to  arrange  with  this  elegant 
personage  the  fees  of  office,  which,  to  my  surprise,  were  more 
reasonable  than  I  had  expected  from  the  well-known  character 
of  Austrian  guides  for  extortion. 

"  Our  first  visit  was  to  the  subterranean  chambers  imder  the 
Church  of  the  Capuchins,  where  the  buried  majesties  of  the 
house  of  Ilapsburg  repose  without  their  boicels,  as  all  the  in- 
terior  arrangements  of  Austrian  royalty,  hermetically  sealed  in 
silver  vases,  find  a  resting-place  in  the  Church  of  St.  Augustine, 
or  in  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Stephen's,  — the  heart  and  entrails  be- 
being  equally  divided  between  them.  In  the  vaults  below  the 
Church  of  the  Capuchins  are  the  ninety-three  imperial  cof- 
fins, some  of  silver,  and  some  of  bronze.  Nothing  in  the  way 
of  a  mausoleum  could  be  finer  than  the  bronze  tomb  erected  in 
one  of  the  chambers  by  the  celebrated  ]\Iaria  Theresa  for  her 
husband,  and  within  which  she  also  was  afterwards  buried.  It 
is  an  immense  sarcophagus  of  bronze,  ornamented  at  the  sides 
with  raised  work  in  pure  silver,  representing  the  principal  inci- 
dents of  their  joint  lives.  A  large  medal  of  solid  gold,  pre- 
senting a  profile  of  her  daughter,  ornaments  the  foot  of  the 
tomb.  This  sarcophagus,  standing  upon  a  lofty  pedestal,  is  in 
the  centre  of  the  vaulted  chamber,  while  around  it,  in  decent 
order  placed,  are  the  bronze  coffins  of  her  children.  In  the  next 
crypt  lie  Francis  of  Austria  and  liis  empress,  in  a  large  bronza 


504  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

sarcopliagus  in  tlie  centre,  while  at  the  side  may  be  seen  tho 
bronze  coffins  of  the  celebrated  jNIaria  Louisa,  and  that  child  of 
such  brilliant  hopes  and  such  unhappy  destiny,  the  son  of  Napo- 
leon,—  he  who  was  to  sustain  the  reputation  of  that  house  which 
'The  Rodolph  of  his  race'  had  founded.  Strange  that  the 
blood  of  the  injured  eTosephine  should  now  quicken  the  pulse  of 
him  who  at  this  moment  occupies  the  very  throne,  to  obtain  an 
heir  to  which  the  unhappy  woman  Avas  thrust  aside  to  make  room 
for  the  daughter  of  the  house  of  Hapsburg.  That  empress  and 
her  son  both  die  exiles  from  France,  and  i\\Q^  grandson  of  Jo- 
sephine now  wields  the  sceptre  of  NajDoleon.  Who  shall  say 
that  God  is  not  just? 

"It  was  over  the  bronze  coffin  of  this  son  of  so  many  hopes, 
—  of  whose  life,  after  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Austrian s,  the 
world  seems  to  know  as  little  as  of  that  of  '  The  Iron  Mask,'  — 
that  I  learned  from  Max  the  followinsr  interestinsf  circumstances. 
I  had  spoken  quite  severely  of  the  unnatural  cruelty  with  which 
the  young  prince  had  been  treated  by  those  who  were  so  nearly 
allied  to  him,  when  I  was  met  by  the  indignant  protest  of  Max. 
who  denounced  the  reports  as  the  sheerest  fabrications. 

"'He  came  to  the  halls  of  his  maternal  ancestors,'  said  my  in- 
formant, 'with  his  education  to  be  commenced,  and  his  charac- 
ter moulded.  Of  course,  it  was  the  desire  of  his  grandfather 
that  he  should  be  educated  as  a  German  prince,  and  if  he  mani- 
fested, as  he  grew  older,  any  enthusiasm  for  the  military  pro- 
fession, it  was  to  be  encouraged  ;  but  still  it  was  deemed  good 
policy  that  he  should  be  cut  off  from  all  communication  with  the 
political  agitators  of  France. 

" '  When  I  first  saw  the  prince,  his  frame  had  all  the  slender- 
ness  and  fragility  of  infancy.  There  was  a  paleness  of  the 
cheek,  and  a  languor  in  the  expression  of  his  eye,  that  indicated 
great  delicacy  of  constitution.  At  the  time  I  first  saw  him  he 
was  just  springing  into  manhood,  and  took  great  delight  in  mil- 
itary exercises,  of  which  he  was  certainly  very  fond,  and  in 
which  he  had  attained  great  proficiency.  His  attention  to  hia 
military  duties  —  he  having  great  ambition  to  excel  —  soon  de- 
voured his  feeble  frame,  and  it  was  in  the  last  month  of  his  lifo, 
while  he  was  sinking  beneath  th«?-  ravages  of  his  disease,  that  I 


NArOLEON    II.  505 

^as  called  upon  to  attend  him  as  his  body-servant,  and  often  did 
I  wheel  him  about  in  his  garden-chair  among  the  leafy  gl.ades  of 
beautiful  Schonbrunn,  —  attending  him  until  he  breathed  his  last 
sigh  in  the  same  apartment  his  father  had  occupied  when  Hushed 
with  the  glories  of  the  conquest  of  Vienna.  It  was  a  cruel  story, 
that  the  Napolconists  circulated  all  over  Europe,'  said  Max, 
*  of  his  being  poisoned  by  order  of  his  grandfather.  Never  did 
I  behold  such  affection  as  existed  between  the  aired  Francis  and 
his  grandson.  Never  did  a  day  pass,  during  the  last  year  of 
his  life,  when  time  could  be  spared  from  official  duties,  that  his 
grandfather  was  not  by  his  side  for  hours,  lavishing  on  him  the 
most  endearing  epithets  and  the  most  devoted  attention.  The 
prince  was  evidently  very  fond  of  his  grandfather,  and  often 
used  to  speak  of  his  affectionate  kindness  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 
I  have  said  that  he  took  great  delight  in  military  exercises.  It 
was  on  the  18th  of  June,  1831,  that  the  prince,  who  had 
been  appointed  lieutenant-colonel,  took  the  command  of  an 
Hungarian  regiment,  when  in  garrison  at  Vienna.  I  Avas  pres- 
ent, with  an  immense  crowd,  who  had  come  to  witness  the  spec- 
tacle. It  was  very  evident  to  all,  when  he  first  made  his  ap- 
pearance, that  death  would  soon  claim  him  for  his  own.  He 
could  hardly  sit  upright  on  his  horse  ;  but  there  was  a  fire  in  his 
e3^e,  and  a  wonderful  strength  in  the  tones  of  his  voice,  which 
evmced  how  great  the  struggle  his  pride  and  will  were  making 
against  his  physical  weakness.  In  him  everything  announced 
the  incipient  symptoms  of  that  fell  disease  which  attacks 
more  particularly  the  sensitive  and  the  beautiful,  and  which, 
while  the  eye  beams  Avith  fire,  and  the  cheek  yet  glows  with  rosy 
freshness,  is  insidiously  undermining  health,  and  slowly  but 
resistlessl}^  gnawing  at  the  vitals.  I  heard  Dr.  Malgatte,  on  this 
occasion,  shortly  after  the  drill  which  the  regiment  had  gone 
through  under  the  young  prince's  orders,  say  to  him  quite  ear- 
nestly, "  Monseigneur,  I  desire  you  to  remember  that  you  have  a 
will  of  iron  in  a  body  of  glass,  and  this  indulgence  of  yours  in 
such  active  exercise  must  in  the  end  prove  fatal."  The  next 
day  Malgatte  considered  it  his  duty  to  make  a  representation  on 
the  state  of  the  duke's  health.  Both  patient  and  physician  were 
summoned  into  the  imperial  presence.     IMalgatte  repeated  hia 


506  PEOJLE'S    BOOK    OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

statement.  The  emperor  then  turned  to  the  young  prince ^  and 
said,  "You  have  heard  Dr.  Malgatte.  You  will  repair  immedi- 
ately to  Schonbrunn."  The  young  prince  bowed  respectfully, 
but,  as  he  Avas  raising  his  head,  he  gave  a  glance  of  excessive  in- 
dignation towards  the  physician,  and  said,  in  a  low,  earnest  tone, 
"It  is  yon^  then,  that  have  put  me  under  arrest,"  and  hurried 
away.  It  was  but  a  few  weeks  after  this  that  I  was  called  upon 
to  attend  him  amid  the  quiet  walks  and  leafy  dells  of  that  most 
beautiful  of  all  summer  palaces  —  Schonbrunn.  The  progress 
of  his  disease  was  most  singularly  rapid,  being  of  that  kind 
known  as  the  galloping  consumption ;  but,  as  each  day  I 
wheeled  him  about  the  grounds,  and  was  an  eye-witness  of  his 
patient  endurance,  his  almost  womanly  gentleness,  and  fascinat- 
ing affabilit}^,  my  feelings  of  attachment  grew  very  strong,  so 
that  when  I  heard  his  last  sigh,  and  saw  his  eyelids  close  in 
death,  I  felt  as  if  I  had  lost  my  dearest  friend,  and  for  hours  I 
wept  like  a  child.  I  never  observed  the  resemblance  to  his  fa- 
ther so  striking  as  when  he  was  laid  out  in  his  coffin.  The  face, 
as  it  often  does  in  death,  went  back  in  its  outline  to  that  resem- 
blance to  the  great  emperor  which  in  his  cradle  was  said  to  have 
been  so  remarkable.  He  was  passionately  fond  of  reading  every- 
thing pertaining  to  the  history  of  his  illustrious  father,  and  had 
read  almost  everything  that  had  been  written  concerning  him. 
He  had  accumulated  a  perfect  library  of  biographies  of  Napo- 
leon, and  treatises  on  all  his  important  battles.  To  Prince 
Metternich  he  is  said  to  have  often  remarked,  "  The  essential 
object  of  my  life  should  be  not  to  make  myself  unworthy  of  the 
glory  of  my  distinguished  father.  I  hope  to  reach  this  point  if 
I  can  only  be  able  to  appropriate  to  myself  any  of  his  high  qual- 
ities, taking  care,  however,  to  avoid  the  rocks  upon  which  he 
split." 

"'One  morning  before  his  death,  while  I  was  wheeling  him 
about  the  grounds,  he  said  to  me,  "Max,  my  good  fellow,  how 
this  exhausting  lassitude  wearies  me,  and  how  I  abominate  this 
wretched  body  that  thus  sinks  under  my  will !  "  As  he  said  this, 
there  was  a  fire  in  his  ej^e,  and  a  compression  about  the  lips,  that 
reminded  me  strongly  of  the  emperor.  The  burden  of  his  con- 
versation, while  I  was  with  him,  was  about  his  father  and  his 


NAPOLEON    II.  507 

campaigns,  and  he  would  converse  about  them  without  showing 
any  signs  of  weariness ;  whereas,  upon  any  other  subject,  he 
soon  became  listless  and  fatigued.  One  morning,  in  speaking  of 
Waterloo,  he  said,  "I  have  often  wondered  my  father  did  not 
follow  the  advice  of  my  uncle,  and  perish  there  at  the  head  of 
his  auards.  AVhat  a  "glorious  death  that  would  have  been  !  and 
what  a  magnificent  close  to  his  brilliant  life  I  Ah  !  those  perfidi- 
ous English  !  Why  could  they  not  have  treated  him  as  I  know 
he  would  have  treated  their  great  Wellington,  had  the  fortune 
of  war  thrown  him  into  my  father's  hands?" 

"*His  famiUarity  with  every  incident  in  the  life  of  his  illustri- 
ous father  was  perfectly  marvellous,  and  it  was  to  me  a  constant 
source  of  delight  to  hear  him  expatiate  upon  the  great  concep- 
tions of  Napoleon,  and  listen  to  his  appreciative  criticisms  upon 
some  of  his  military  achievements.  He  seemed  to  me  to  be 
familiar  with  the  locality  of  every  battle-field  where  his  father's 
eagles  had  witnessed  triumph  or  defeat ;  while  his  knowledge 
of  the  prominent  traits  distinguishing  each  of  the  marshals  by 
whom  his  father  was  surrounded,  exhibited  what  application  he 
had  brought  to  bear  on  this,  his  favorite  study. 

"'The  last  week  of  his  life  that  he  was  able  to  take  exercise  in 
the  open  air,  he  appeared,  contrary  to  the  usual  impression  pro- 
duced by  this  insidious  disease,  to  have  seized  upon  the  idea 
that  he  was  soon  to  die ;  but  his  only  anxiety  about  a  future 
state  appeared  to  rest  upon  the  doubt,  that  sometimes  harassed 
him,  whether  he  should  be  able  to  recognize  his  fiither  in  the 
other  world.  He  did  not  appear  to  have  had  any  religious 
views  ;  at  least,  if  he  had,  he  never  expressed  them.  After  his 
death,  a  post-mortem  examination  justified  the  apprehensions  of 
his  physicians.  One  lobe  of  the  lungs  was  nearly  gone,  and 
while  the  sternum  was  that  of  a  mere  child,  the  intestines  pre- 
sented all  the  appearance  of  decrepit  age.  This  alone  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  refute  the  silly  stories  about  his  having 
been  slowly  poisoned.'" 


K08  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE  m  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


Louis  XIII.,  King  of  France,  was  a  married  man  twent}^- 
tbree  years  before  children  were  born  to  liim.  During  the  last 
five  years  of  his  life  he  became  the  fiither  of  two  princes,  the 
elder  of  whom  succeeded  him  on  the  throne  as  Louis  XIV. 
From  Louis  XIY.  were  descended  Louis  XV.,  Louis  XVI., 
Louis  XVII. ,  Louis  XVIII. ,  and  Charles  X.  There  is  also 
somewhere  in  Europe  an  elderly  gentleman,  who,  by  virtue  of 
his  descent  from  the  same  kins:,  considers  himself  entitled  to 
reign  over  France,  and  would  immediately  place  himself  on  the 
throne  —  if  he  could.  His  title,  I  believe,  if  he  ever  reigns, 
will  be  Henry  V. 

The  younger  son  of  Louis  XIII.,  created  Duke  of  Orleans, 
was  also  the  progenitor  of  a  line  of  princes,  the  eldest  son  al- 
ways inheriting  the  same  title.  Thus,  during  the  last  two  hun- 
dred years,  the  royal  family  of  France  has  consisted  of  two 
branches,  called  respectively  the  reigning  branch  and  the  Orleans 
branch,  both  of  which  were  descended  directly  from  the  great 
king,  Henry  IV.,  who  was  the  father  of  Louis  XIH. 

These  Orleans  princes  became,  in  the  course  of  four  or  ^ve 
generations,  immensely  rich, — the  richest  family  in  France,  if 
not  in  Europe.  One  Duke  of  Orleans  gave  away  in  charity 
every  year,  a  quarter  of  a  million  francs ;  two  others  were  the 
scandal  of  Christendom  for  extravagance  and  debauchery,  and 
still  their  estates  increased.  It  happened,  curiously  enough, 
that  a  virtuous  Duke  of  Orleans  usually  had  a  very  dissolute 
son,  and  a  dissolute  duke  a  virtuous  son,  so  that  what  one  squan- 
dered the  next  heir  made  up  by  economy.  Philippe,  brother 
of  Louis  XIV.,  was  tolerably  steady  ;  his  son,  Philippe,  Regent 
of  France,  was  one  of  the  most  shameless  roues,  gluttons,  and 


LOUIS  piiiLirPE.  509 

winc-biblDcrs  that  ever  lived;  JlIs  son,  Louis,  was  a  (lowiu-i^rlit 
devotee  and  bigot;  JlIs  son,  Louis  Philippe,  was  not  what  wo 
should  call  a  moral  man,  but  he  was  very  moral  for  the  Franco 
of  that  day,  exceedingly  charitable,  and  a  most  liberal  patron  of 
art  and  literature;  his  son,  Louis  Philippe  Joseph,  was  that 
notorious  debauchee  and  pretended  democrat  who  ligured  in  the 
iirst  years  of  the  French  revolution  as  "Egalile."  Despite  his 
renunciation  of  his  rank  and  title,  despite  his  having  voted  for 
the  execution  of  the  king,  he,  too,  became  a  victim  of  the  guil- 
lotine. 

The  reader  remembers,  perhaps,  the  scene  at  the  execution 
of  this  man.  He  was  carried  on  a  cart  past  his  own  palace, 
through  a  dense  crowd  of  people  who  hooted  him  as  he  went 
by.  He  replied  to  the  vociferations  of  the  mob  with  gestures 
of  impatient  contempt.  On  the  scaffold  the  executioners  at- 
tempted to  pull  off  his  long  and  handsome  riding  boots,  which 
were  tii^^ht  to  his  leo:s. 

"No,  no,"  said  he,  "you  will  get  them  off  more  easily  after- 
wards.    Make  haste  !  make  haste  !  " 

These  were  the  last  words  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  By  his 
death  his  eldest  son,  according  to  the  ancient  laws  of  France, 
became  the  possessor  of  his  title  and  of  his  enormous  estates. 
That  sou  was  Louis  Philippe,  then  aged  twenty  years,  destined 
one  day  to  reigu  over  the  French  people.  As  his  father  had 
been  dissolute,  it  was  the  turn  of  the  new  Duke  of  Orleans  to  be 
virtuous ;  and  so  he  was. 

But  where  was  the  young  prince  when  his  father  made  the 
remark  concerning  his  tight  boots  just  quoted?  The  same  de- 
cree which  condemned  that  father  to  death  confiscated  his  estates, 
declared  his  children  enemies  of  France,  and  offered  a  reward 
for  the  arrest  of  the  eldest,  who  alone  was  free.  Long  before, 
he  had  disappeared  from  view,  and  scarcely  a  soul  in  Europe, 
knew  the  place  of  his  retreat. 

On  the  day  of  the  execution  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  a  young 
man  called  M.  Chabaud-Latour  sat  in  a  room  of  a  board ini^:  school 
in  Switzerland,  teaching  geography  and  arithmetic  to  successive 
classes  of  boys.  He  had  been  recommended  to  the  principal  of 
the  school  by  a  French  nobleman,  and  had  been  employed  for 


510  PKOTLE'S     BOOK      OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

several  months  in  the  school  as  a  teacher.  When  the  news 
reached  this  sequestered  place  of  the  execution  of  the  Duke  of 
Orleans,  the  3'oung  teacher  learned  that  he  was  fatherless,  fot 
M.  Chabaud-Latour  was  no  other  than  the  duke's  eldest  son. 
Admonished  soon  after  of  the  necessity  of  removing  further 
from  France,  he  resigned  his  place,  and  left  the  school,  bearing 
with  him  a  certificate  of  good  conduct.  Not  a  person  in  the 
establishment  suspected  that  he  was  any  other  than  ]M.  Chabaud- 
Latour,  a  virtuous  youth,  willing  to  earn  an  honest  livelihood  by 
labor. 

From  this  point  I  shall  follow  mainly  the  narrative  of  his  ad- 
ventures as  given  by  King  Louis  Philippe  to  the  American  i\Iin- 
jster  at  his  court,  the  late  Lewis  Cass. 

Secretly  supplied  with  money  by  old  friends  of  his  fomil}^  he 
changed  his  name  to  Corby,  and  made  an  extensive  tour  in  Swe- 
den and  Norway,  away  from  the  turmoil  of  European  politics, 
going  as  far  as  the  most  northern  point  of  Europe.  Once,  and 
once  only,  he  heard  his  ancestral  name  pronounced.  Having 
spent  a  day  in  the  country  with  the  family  at  whose  house  he 
boarded  (in  Christiana,  Norway),  just  as  they  were  about  to 
summon  their  vehicles  to  return  to  the  town,  a  young  man  of 
the  party  cried  out  in  French  :  — 

"  The  carriaije  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  ! " 

Penetrated  with  alarm,  the  prince  had  self-control  enough  not 
to  betray  au}^  agitation,  and,  seeing  that  the  young  man  did  not 
look  at  him,  he  ventured  to  inquire  in  a  careless  tone,  why  he 
had  called  the  Duke  of  Orleans'  carriage,  and  what  relations  ho 
had  with  the  duke. 

"None,"  replied  the  youth ;  " but  when  I  was  at  Paris,  when- 
ever we  came  from  the  opera,  I  heard  repeated  from  all  quarters, 
*The  carriage  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.'  I  have  been  more  than 
once  stunned  with  the  noise,  and  I  just  took  it  into  my  head  to 
make  the  same  exclamation," 

The  prince,  as  may  be  imagined,  was  much  relieved  by  this 
explanation. 

After  an  extensive  tour  in  Lapland  he  returned  to  Denmark, 
where  he  received  an  important  message  from  his  mother.  She 
informed  him  that  the  French  Directory  had  engaged  to  restore 


LOUIS    PHILIPPE.  511 

her  property  and  release  her  two  younger  sons  from  prison,  pro- 
vided she  would  induce  her  oldest  son  to  go  to  the  United  States, 
where,  if  they  chose,  his  brothers  could  join  him.  Certain  that 
he  would  comply  with  the  condition,  slic  concluded  her  letter 
with  these  words  :  — 

"  May  the  prospect  of  relieving  the  sufferings  of  your  poor 
mother,  of  rendering  the  situation  of  your  brothers  less  painful, 
and  of  contributing  to  give  quiet  to  your  country,  recompense 
your  generosity." 

He  began  his  reply  with  this  sentence  :  — 

"When  my  dear  mother  shall  receive  this  letter  her  orders 
will  have  been  executed,  and  I  shall  have  sailed  for  the  United 
States." 

Passing  for  a  Dane,  the  prince  went  to  Hamburg,  and  npplied 
to  the  captain  of  an  American  ship  for  passage  to  Philadelphia 
for  himself  and  a  servant.  The  captain  strongl}-  objected  to 
taking  the  servant,  who,  he  said,  would  be  of  no  use  on  the 
voyage,  and  would  certainly  run  away  as  soon  as  he  reached 
America.  It  was  only  after  much  persuasion  that  the  captain 
could  be  induced  to  take  him.  Having  secured  this  point,  the 
prince  next  asked  to  be  allowed  to  reside  on  board  the  ship 
imtil  it  sailed.  The  captain  gave  a  reluctant  consent,  and  the 
prince,  glad  of  so  safe  a  hiding-place,  went  on  board. 

September  24,  1796,  the  ship  sailed,  and  after  an  agreeable 
voyage  of  twenty-seven  days,  cast  anchor  before  Philadelphia. 
Before  saying  good-by  to  the  honest  captain,  the  prince  told 
him  wdio  he  Avas.  The  captain  informed  the  prince,  in  return, 
that  he  had  conceived  a  very  unfavorable  impression  of  him  ;  and, 
after  puzzling  a  good  deal  over  the  matter,  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  he  was  a  gambler  who  had  cheated  at  cards,  and  was 
obliged  to  fly. 

The  prince  found  lodgings  in  Philadelphia,  in  Walnut  Street, 
between  Fourth  and  Fifth  Streets,  at  the  house  of  a  clerGfvman, 
and  there  he  lived  while  awaiting:  the  arrival  of  his  brothers. 
They  had  a  passage  of  ninety-three  days,  but  arrived  safely  at 
length,  and  the  three  brothers,  after  so  long  and  eventful  a  se}> 
aration,  had  a  joyful  meeting.  As  there  was  now  no  occasion 
for  concealment,  the  princes,  although  they  claimed  no  rank  on 


512  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

account  of  their  birth,  mingled  in  the  society  of  Philadelphia 
without  disguise.  President  Washington  entertained  them  often, 
and  invited  them  to  visit  him  at  Mount  Vernon.  They  were 
present  at  the  inauguration  of  John  Adams,  when  General  Wash- 
ington laid  aside,  and  his  successor  assumed,  the  cares  of  state. 

Of  all  those  scenes,  of  the  persons  he  knew,  and  the  places  he 
visited,  King  Louis  Philippe  retained  the  most  distinct  recollec- 
tion forty  years  after,  mentioning  to  General  Cass  a  large  num- 
ber of  familiar  Philadelphia  names. 

From  Philadelphia  the  three  princes  set  out  in  the  spring  of 
1797,  for  an  extensive  tour  in  the  South  and  West.  On  their 
way  to  Mount  Yernou  they  passed  through  the  forest  which 
then  grew  on  the  site  of  the  city  of  Washington.  At  Mount 
Vernon  they  spent  several  days.  The  king  told  General  Cass 
that  Washington  was  rather  silent  and  reserved,  extremely  me- 
thodical in  la^'ing  out  his  time,  and  careful  not  to  waste  it.  He 
allowed  all  his  guests  complete  liberty.  After  breakfast  every 
one  rode,  hunted,  fished,  rambled,  read,  or  wrote,  just  as  he 
pleased  until  dinner-time  brought  them  all  together  again,  when 
each  related  the  adventures  of  the  day.  The  host  provided  lib- 
erally the  means  of  enjoyment,  and  left  everybody  free  to  select 
his  own  pastime. 

"How  did  you  sleep,  general?"  asked  the  Duke  of  Orleans 
one  mornino'  of  the  master  of  the  house. 

"I  always  sleep  well,"  replied  General  Washington,  "for  I 
never  wrote  a  word  in  my  life  which  I  had  afterwards  cause  to 
regret." 

Before  the  departure  of  the  princes,  General  Washington 
prepared  for  them  with  his  own  hands  a  plan  or  map  of  their 
western  journey,  furnished  them  with  letters  of  introduction  to 
gentlemen  on  the  route,  and  gave  them  instruction  in  the  art  of 
travellinix  throusfh  the  wilderness,  which  no  man  livini]^  under- 
stood  better  than  he.  Nor  were  these  young  men  ill-prepared 
for  such  a  journey.  Their  education  had  been  superintended 
by  the  celebrated  Madame  de  Genlis,  who  accustomed  them  to 
hardship,  had  them  instructed  in  carpentry,  surge r}^,  and  medi- 
cine, caused  them  to  be  taught  to  swim,  ride,  march,  camp  out, 
and  live  on  the  scantiest  fare.     AVhile  still  in  the  enjoyment  of 


LOUIS   riiiLiprE.  513 

his  rank  at  home,  the  duke  had  saved  a  poor  man  from  drown- 
ing, and  received  in  reward  a  crown  of  oak  leaves.  She  had 
them  taught,  also,  to  keep  accounts;  and  the  king  told  General 
Cass  that  he  still  possessed,  in  1835,  a  book  containing  an  exact 
account  of  all  the  expenditures  of  the  party  during  their  resi- 
dence in  the  United  States. 

The  journey  lasted  all  the  summer.  The  princes  rode  on 
horseback,  carrying  all  their  baggage  in  their  saddle-bags,  and 
camping  in  the  woods  when  there  was  no  house  near.  There 
was  one  period  during  which  they  camped  out  for  fourteen  suc- 
cessive uii^^hts.  The  kinsf  remembered  the  incidents  of  this  lou£: 
tour,  and  even  the  names  of  the  landlords  who  entertained  him, 
as  thous^h  it  had  been  a  recent  excursion.  He  related  that  at 
Winchester,  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shenandoah,  a  democratic  inn- 
keeper turned  them  out  of  his  house  because  (one  of  them  being 
sick)  they  asked  the  privilege  of  eating  by  themselves. 

"If  you  are  too  good,"  roared  this  despotic  democrat,  "to  eat 
at  the  same  table  with  my  other  guests,  you  are  too  good  to  eat 
in  my  house.     Begone  ! " 

Despite  the  instant  apology  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  the  land- 
lord insisted  on  their  going,  and  they  were  compelled  to  seek 
other  quarters. 

Another  landlord,  whose  hotel  was  a  log-cabin  of  one  room, 
was  very  urgent  for  them  to  buy  land  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
was  totally  unable  to  comprehend  Avhat  their  object  could  be  in 
travelling  so  far,  if  they  did  not  intend  to  settle.  It  was  in  vain 
they  explained  to  him  that  they  merely  wished  to  see  the  coun- 
try. He  let  them  know  very  plainly  that  he  looked  upon  them 
as  little  better  than  fools,  and  seemed  to  pity  them  as  persons 
unfit  to  manas^e  their  own  affairs.  In  another  lo<2:-tavern  of  a 
single  apartment,  wherein  the  guests  slept  on  the  floor,  and  the 
landlord  and  his  wife  on  the  only  bedstead,  the  duke  overheard 
the  landlord,  in  the  night,  saying  to  his  wife  what  a  pity  it  was 
that  three  such  promising  young  men  should  be  roaming  about 
the  countr}^  without  object,  instead  of  buying  land  in  that  set- 
tlement and  establishing  themselves  respectably.  At  another 
tavern  the  duke  remonstrated  with  the  landlady  for  not  attend- 
ing to  their  wants.     She  replied  that  there  was  a  show  in  the 

33 


514  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

village,  the  first  show  ever  seen  in  that  country,  and  she  was  not 
going  to  stay  at  home  herself,  nor  require  any  one  else  to  stay, 
to  wait  on  anybody  ;  not  she,  indeed  ! 

After  journeying  as  far  west  as  Nashville,  they  returned  by 
way  of  Niagara  Falls,  and  reached  Philadelphia  brown,  robust, 
and  penniless.  So  poor  were  they,  for  a  time,  that  they  could 
not  remove  from  Philadelphia  during  the  prevalence  of  the  yel- 
low fever.  When  they  received  remittances,  they  resided  for 
a  while  at  New  York,  where  they  became  well  acquainted  with 
Alexander  Hamilton,  Aaron  Burr,  John  Jay,  Governor  Clinton, 
and  others,  whom  the  king  well  remembered. 

The  three  princes  resided  in  the  United  States  about  two 
years.  When  the  fury  of  the  French  revolution  had  subsided, 
they  ventured  to  rejoin  their  mother  in  Spain  ;  and  during  the 
reign  of  Napoleon,  the  family  lived  in  London  and  in  Sicil3^  It 
was  not  until  the  expulsion  of  Napoleon  in  1814,  after  an  exile 
of  more  than  twenty-one  years,  that  the  Orleans  family  saw 
again  their  native  country,  and  entered  into  the  possession  of 
their  hereditary  rank  and  fortune.  To  the  last  years  of  his  life 
there  was  nothing  which  Louis  Philippe  recalled  with  so  much 
pleasure  as  his  travels  in  the  wilderness  of  America. 


LORD     PALMERSTON.  r^lf, 


LORD    PALMERSTON. 


It  is  reported  of  Lord  Palmerston,  the  late  prime  minister  of 
England,  that  whenever  he  engaged  a  new  cook,  he  used  to  say 
to  him :  — 

"  I  wish  you  to  prepare  what  is  called  a  good  table  for  my 
guests ;  but  for  me,  there  must  always  be  a  leg  of  mutton  and 
an  apple-pie." 

This  remark  partly  explains  how  it  came  to  pass  that  a  man 
nearly  eighty-two  years  of  age  could  perform  the  duties  of 
chief  ruler  of  an  empire  containing  three  hundred  millions  of 
people.  An  English  prime  minister  is  as  much  the  ruler  of  the 
British  empire  as  the  President  is  of  the  United  States ;  for, 
although  everything  is  done  in  the  queen's  name,  and  every 
document  of  any  importance  requires  her  signature,  still  this  is 
mere  form ;  all  the  ivo7'Jc  is  done  by  the  minister,  and  he  is  far 
more  responsible  to  parliament  than  to  the  sovereign.  Besides 
performing  the  duties  of  minister,  he  also  sits  in  parliament, 
where  he  has  to  defend  his  policy  against  the  attacks  of  an 
eager  and  able  opposition.  Parliament  assembles  every  after- 
noon at  four  o'clock,  and  often  sits  very  late.  It  is  not  uncom- 
mon for  the  session  to  continue  until  two  or  three  in  the 
morning,  and  sometimes  the  sitting  is  prolonged  until  after 
sunrise.  From  the  heat  and  excitement  of  parliament,  the 
minister  goes  home,  and,  at  ten  the  next  morning,  he  is  at  his 
office  in  Downing  Street  to  transact  business. 

A  life  like  this  Lord  Palmerston  led  for  fifty-seven  years, 
supporting  the  animal  man  on  such  fare  as  roast  mutton  and 
apple  pie.  He  could  not  have  done  it  on  turtle  and  venison, 
still  less  on  our  American  hot  bread,   buckwheat  cakes,  and 


516  PEOPLE'S     BOOK     OF     BIOGllAPHY. 

fried  meat.  He  took  plenty  of  exercise  too.  When  he  was 
past  seventy,  he  thought  no  more  of  a  thirty-mile  gallop  of  an 
afternoon,  than  a  New  York  merchant  does  of  walking  home 
from  Broad  Street  to  Union  Square.  Often,  when  parliament 
was  expected  to  sit  late,  he  would  dismiss  his  carriage,  and, 
coming  out  of  the  house  after  midnight,  would  walk  home 
,  alone,  a  distance  of  two  miles,  and  "do"  the  distance  in  thirty 
minutes.  There  never  was  a  brisker  old  gentleman.  In  the 
hunting  season  he  usually  went  into  the  country,  where  he 
would  follow  the  hounds  as  vigorously  and  as  long  as  the 
youngest  buck  of  them  all. 

I  delight  to  mention  these  things,  for  there  is  nothing  our 
keen  business  men  more  need  to  be  reminded  of  than  tho 
necessity  of  taking  care  of  the  animal  part  of  their  nature.  If  a 
man  wishes  to  keep  a  clear  head,  a  good  temper,  a  sound 
digestion,  let  him  take  a  hint  from  Lord  Palmerston,  Commo- 
dore Yanderbilt,  and  Dr.  Spring.  It  is  not  necessary  to  have  a 
five-hundred-guinea  hunter  or  a  twenty-thousand-dollar  trotting 
horse,  or  any  horse  at  all.  A  game  of  ball,  or  a  ramble  with 
the  children,   will  answer  every  purpose. 

I  saw  Lord  Palmerston  in  the  House  of  Commons  twenty 
years  ago.  That  House  presents  a  scene  exceedingly  different 
from  an  American  legislative  body,  every  member  of  which  has 
a  comfortable  arm-chair,  and  a  desk  at  which  he  writes  his 
letters,  his  editorials,  his  pamphlets,  or  his  speeches.  In  the 
House  of  Commons,  the  members  sit  on  benches  or  settees ;  the 
ministerial  members  on  one  side,  and  the  opposition  members 
on  the  other ;  each  division  facing  one  another,  and  separated 
by  a  broad  isle.  The  benches  are  arranged  in  long  rows,  each 
a  little  hi2:her  than  the  one  before  it,  so  that  the  members  on 
the  back  seats  can  see  over  the  heads  of  those  in  front.  Every 
member  sits  with  his  hat  on,  which  he  removes  only  when  ho 
rises  to  speak,  or  when  he  has  occasion  to  walk  across  the  floor. 
The  spectator  in  the  gallery,  therefore,  looks  down  on  a  moving 
sea  of  black  hat-crowns,  instead  of  the  distinguished  counte- 
nances which  he  is  anxious  to  examine.  The  gallery  was  then  a 
small  pen,  at  the  back  of  the  house,  high  up  near  the  ceiling. 
It  would  hold  about  one  hundred  persons ;  and  no  one  could 


LORD     TALMERSTOX.  517 

get  ndinittrincc  except  upon  the  written  order  of  :i  member ; 
and  ;i  member  could  only  irniiit  one  of  these  orders  each  even- 
ing. This  was  a  great  plague  to  the  American  minister,  to 
"whom  Americans  in  London  apply  for  these  ord(U's,  and  who 
could  seldom  get  as  many  as  were  wanted.  Some  of  our  free 
and  eas}^  countrymen  would  plant  themselves  in  the  passage  by 
which  members  enter  the  house,  and  there  accost  the  first  good- 
natured  looking  gentleman  who  passed  along,  and  ask  him  for 
an  order,  which  he  would  generally  get.  I  saw  O'Connell 
stopped  for  this  purpose.  He  took  a  card  from  his  pocket,  and 
his  remarkably  broad-brimmed  hat  from  his  head,  and  wrote 
the  order  on  the  crown.  O'Connell  at  that  time,  with  his 
round,  red  fiice,  and  his  large-skirted  brown  coat,  looked  the 
very  picture  of  an  Irish  farmer,  come  to  town  to  sell  his  crop 
of  potatoes. 

Lord  Palmerston  spoke  that  evening.  He  was  then  sixty 
years  of  age,  and  looked  thirty-eight.  His  figure  was  rather 
slight  and  extremely  elegant.  There  was  nothing  of  the  bluff, 
round,  beer-drinking  Briton  in  his  appearance,  and  he  was  in- 
variably dressed  with  care,  —  even  to  dand3'ism ;  which,  I 
suppose,  was  the  reason  why  he  was  called  "Old  Cupid."  In 
this  particular,  he  presented  a  contrast  to  his  colleague,  Lord 
John  Russell,  who,  being  very  short,  and  having  on  clothes 
much  too  large  for  him,  looked  like  a  boy  who  had  just  put  on 
his  first  frock-coat,  which  a  prudent  mother  had  insisted  should 
allow  for  his  growth.  In  the  House  of  Commons  there  is 
seldom  heard  what  we  call  oratory,  —  no  vehemence,  no  flights 
of  rhetoric,  no  sweeping  gestures,  no  appeals  to  the  feelings. 
The  members  simply  converse  together.  That  is  to  say,  they 
speak  in  the  tone  and  manner  of  conversation.  If  any  one 
should  get  up  in  the  House  of  Commons  and  try  to  show  off  his 
oratorical  powers,  he  w^ould  very  soon  be  informed,  hy  coughs 
and  satirical  outcries,  that  he  had  brouirht  his  wares  to  the 
wrong  market.  Lord  Palmerston  was  asked  a  question  respect- 
ing a  treaty  with  Portugal,  with  regard  to  the  duty  on  wines. 
He  rose,  took  off  his  hat,  spoke  ten  minutes  in  a  low  tone,  gave 
the   information   sought,  made  a   little  joke  inaudible   in   the 


ol8  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGllAPIIY. 

gallery,  at  which  the  members  laughed,  then  resumed  his  seal 
and  put  on  his  hat. 

One  great  secret  of  his  power  was,  that  he  could  alwaj'S 
make  the  house  laugh.  He  had  a  quiet,  homely  way  of  joking, 
which  no  British  audience  could  resist.  Many  of  his  comic 
illustrations  were  drawn  from  the  "ring,"  all  the  slang  and 
science  of  which  he  knew.  1  have  no  doubt  that  if  he  had  been 
attacked  in  one  of  his  midnight  walks,  by  three  unarmed  men, 
not  prize-fighters,  he  would  have  been  able  to  knock  down  the 
first  assailant,  damage  the  second,  and  put  to  flight  the  third. 
I  remember,  in  one  of  his  speeches,  a  passage  like  this  :  — 

"  Gentlemen  on  the  other  side  remind  me  of  another  sort  of 
encounter  familiar  to  us  all.  Tom  Spring,  hard  pressed,  cries 
out,  ^  You  strike  too  7iir/hf^  Bob  Clinch  changes  his  tactics; 
whereupon  Tom  roars,  *  You  strike  too  low!''  I  have  the  same 
ill  luck  :  Let  me  strike  high  or  low,  I  cannot  please  honorable 
members  opposite." 

If  a  party  of  Englishmen  were  afloat  on  a  raft  in  the  middle 
of  the  ocean,  and  no  ship  in  sight,  they  could  hardly  help 
laughing  at  a  comparison  of  that  kind.  Palmerston  could 
always  turn  the  laugh  upon  his  opponents  by  some  such  rough 
joke,  couched  in  the  language  of  gentlemen. 

He  made  a  capital  hit  in  1(S53,  when  the  cholera  was  ravaging 
the  continent,  and  w^as  expected  to  break  out  in  England  in  the 
following  spring.  The  situation,  in  fact,  was  precisely  what  it 
was  in  1867  ;  every  one  in  Great  Britain  and  America  was  fearful 
of  the  coming  epidemic.  In  these  circumstances,  the  clergy  of 
Scotland  united  in  petitioning  the  government  to  appoint  a  day 
of  fasting  and  prajxr,  in  order  to  avert  the  dreaded  visitation. 
Lord  Palmerston  refused  to  grant  the  petition.  He  told  the 
clergy  of  Scotland  that  the  world  was  governed  liy  natural  laws, 
ordained  of  God,  which  must  be  obeyed ;  and  that,  therefore,  it 
was  useless  to  pray  against  the  cholera  v/hile  the  Scottish  towns 
were  reeking  with  the  lilth  which  was  the  natural  cause  and 
nourishment  of  cholera.  He  advised  them  to  go  to  work  and 
purify  those  towns,  especially  the  dwellings  of  the  poor.     Ilia 


LORD    PALMERSTON.  519 

words  were  so  appropriate  to  our  circumstances  at  all   times 
that  we  will  quote  them  :  — 

**Lortl  Palmcrston  Avould  therefore  suggest  that  the  best 
course  Avhich  the  people  of  this  country  can  pursue  to  desei've 
that  the  further  progress  of  the  cholera  should  be  stayed,  will 
be  to  employ  the  interval  that  will  elapse  between  the  present 
time  and  the  beginning  of  next  spring,  in  planning  and 
executing  measures  by  Avhich  those  portions  of  their  towns  and 
cities  which  are  inhabited  by  the  poorest  classes,  and  which, 
from  the  nature  of  things,  must  most  need  purification  and 
improvement,  may  be  freed  from  those  causes  and  sources  of 
contagion  which,  if  allowed  to  remain,  will  infallibly  breed 
pestilence,  and  be  fruitful  in  death,  in  spite  of  all  the  prayers 
and  fastings  of  a  united  but  inactive  people." 

The  common  sense  of  the  people  sustained  him  in  this  bold 
and  wise  reply.  It  is  greatly  to  be  hoped  that  we  also 
may  be  wise  enough,  "between  the  present  time  and  the 
beginning  of  next  spring,"  to  act  upon  Lord  Palmerston's 
suggestion. 

What  a  prodigious  sum  of  experience  lies  buried  in  the 
grave  of  this  old  minister!  Born  in  1784,  just  as  the 
American  revolution  had  closed,  he  could  remember  the  later 
phases  of  the  French  revolution,  which  grew  out  of  ours.  He 
was  at  school  with  Lord  Byron.  When,  as  a  young  man  of 
twenty-one,  he  entered  parliament,  Napoleon  had  not  yet 
reached  the  summit  of  his  career.  As  secretary  of  war,  he 
assisted  to  conduct  the  vast  military  operations  which  ended  in 
the  battle  of  "Waterloo,  and  the  final  overthrow  of  Napoleon. 
He  served  four  British  sovereigns,  and  terminated  his  career 
by  holding,  for  six  years,  the  highest  post  a  subject  can  reach. 
At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  still  the  most  popular  man  in 
England. 

He  w^as  very  far,  indeed,  from  being  a  great  man ;  but  he 
was  an  exceedingly  skilful  politician.  No  man  knew  better 
than  he  when  to  resist  public  opinion  and  when  to  3'ield  to 
it.     He  owed  his  long  success  in  public  life  chiefly  to  this 


520  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

His  spleuclid  health,  his  imperturbable  good  humor,  his  happy 
mixture  of  audacity  and  prudence,  and  his  perfect  knowledge 
of  the  British  people,  enabled  him  to  emerge  triumphantly  from 
difficulties  which  would  have  crushed  a  better  and  greater 
man. 


BENEDICT     ARNOLD.  521 


BENEDICT  ARNOLD-NEW  LIGHT. 


"Wno  would  have  thought  of  looking  into  the  autobiography 
of  Mrs.  Sigourney  for  information  respecting  Benedict  Arnold? 
These  two  names  represent  the  extremes  of  human  nature ;  for 
Mrs.  Sigourney  was  one  of  the  best  of  women,  and  Arnold  was 
one  of  the  worst  of  men.  Xevertheless,  the  two  names  will 
henceforth  be  often  printed  in  the  same  sentence,  and  mentioned 
in  the  same  breath. 

One  hundred  years  ago,  in  the  town  of  Norwich,  Connecticut, 
there  lived  a  certain  Daniel  Lathrop,  physician  and  druggist. 
His  business  was  so  flourishing  and  extensive  as  to  require  the 
services  of  several  clerks  and  apprentices,  who,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  time,  lived  in  the  family  of  their  employer.  One 
of  his  apprentices  was  a  poor  widow's  son,  named  Benedict 
Arnold,  and  another  was  Ezekiel  Huntley,  who  became,  in  due 
time,  the  father  of  Lydia  Huntlej^  afterwards  ]\Irs.  Sigourney. 
It  is  in  this  way  that  the  name  of  the  gentle  poetess  is  associated 
with  that  of  the  fierce,  malignant  traitor.  Having  been  in  the 
habit  of  hearing  her  father  talk  of  Arnold,  and  having  herself, 
during  her  childhood  and  youth,  resided  in  the  old  Lathrop 
mansion  with  Mrs.  Lathrop,  she  naturally  records  what  she  was 
accustomed  to  hear  of  him.  Her  father  had  in  his  possession 
several  of  Arnold's  school-books,  of  which  she  particularly 
remembered  a  Dilworth's  Grammar  and  an  Arithmetic,  which 
were  disfigured  in  many  places  by  the  name  of  Benedict  Arnold, 
scrawled  carelessly  through  the  middle  of  valuable  pages. 
Sometimes,  she  says,  the  names  were  accompanied  by  boyish 
drawings,  of  an  extremely  hideous  character;  and  she  truly 
remarks,  that,  in  that  frugal  and  well-disciplined  age,  it  must 
have  required  some  audacity  thus  to  misuse  highly  valuable 


522  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

property,  and  which,  indeed,  had  an  almost  sacred  character  in 
New  England. 

The   family   of  Dr.  Daniel  Lathrop   was   among  the   most 
respectable   in   Connecticut.      The    doctor  himself   had  been 
regularly  educated  as  a  physician ;  but,  owing  to  a  distaste  for 
the  practice  of  his  profession,  which  he  could  never  overcome, 
he  established  himself  in  the  drug  business,  in  which  he  acquired 
a  very  large  estate.     He  was  noted  in  Norwich  for  the  interest 
which  he  took  in  the  welfare  of  his  clerks  and  apprentices.     He 
made  it  his  business  to  see  that  the  younger  ones  attended  school 
a  part  of  the  winter,  and  that  they  learned  their  lessons  properly. 
He  watched  over  their  morals,  and  inculcated  virtue  both  by 
precept  and  example.     He  used  to  say  in  after  years,  and  so 
did  his  wife,  that,  of  all  the  apprentices  they  had  ever  had  in 
their  family,  there  was  not  one  with  whom  they  had  taken  more 
l^ains  than  Benedict  Arnold.     He  was  a  widow's  son,  and  he 
came  to  them  at  a  yomiger  age  than  was  usual,  and  both  these         ! 
circumstances  conspired  to  increase  their  tenderness  for  liim.         \ 
They  cared  for  him,  indeed,  as  if  he  had  been  their  own  son.         | 
In  common  with  all  the  members  of  the  family,  he  enjoyed  the         j 
freedom  and  comfort  of  a  spacious  and  elegant  house,  — one  of         ' 
the  best  in  that  part  of  Coni^ecticut.     The  gardens  of  the  house 
were  remarkably  extensive  and  well  kept.     Orphan  as  he  was,         '. 
there  was  probably  not   a  boy  in  Connecticut  more  advanta- 
geously situated  than  Benedict  Arnold.  ; 

He  was  no  common  boy.     The  most   striking  trait   of  his         ' 
character  was  fearlessness.     He  would  place  himself  in  situa- 
tions of  extreme  peril,  for  no  other  motive  than  to  terrify  his         ' 
elders,  or  to  "  show  off"  his  courage.     In  those  simple  old  days,         ' 
apprentices   used  to   perform   many   services   of  a  household         ' 
character,  such  as  bringing  in  wood  and  water,  taking  care  of         i 
the  family  horse,  blacldng  the  master's  Sunday  boots,  and  going         ' 
to  mill.     It  was  often  the  duty  of  the  boy  Arnold  to  carry  bags 
of  Indian  corn  to  a  mill,  two  miles  from  home,  himself  riding 
upon  the  bags  that  were  thrown  over  the  horse's  back.     While         ; 
he  was  waiting  for  his  grist,  it  was  his  delight  to  astonish  the         I 
miller  with  his  wild,  darinc^  tricks.     As  he  was  batliin":  in  the         j 
mill-stream,  he  would  seize  hold  of  one  of  the  spokes  of  the         , 


BENEDICT     ARNOLD.  1523 

great  water- wheel,  and  go  around  with  it,  now  danglhig  in  the 
air,  now  buried  in  the  foaming  water,  while  the  miller  stood 
horror-stricken  at  his  recklessness.  He  was  a  most  daring  and 
headlong  rider.  Horses  that  he  was  accustomed  to  ride  wei'c 
observed  to  fall  into  bad  habits,  such  as  lacking,  starting,  and 
running  away. 

Another  marked  characteristic  was  cruelty.  lie  was  bar- 
barous, Mrs.  Sigourney  reports,  to  every  form  of  animal  life. 
Dogs  slunk  out  of  his  way  when  they  saw  him  coming,  and  cats 
came  to  an  untimely  end  where  he  resided.  He  was  cruel  to 
insects  and  birds.  He  took  a  devilish  pleasure,  as  it  seemed,  in 
brealdns:  the  e^<i:s  in  the  nests  of  birds,  and  in  observins:  the 
dismay  of  the  mother.  Mrs.  Lathrop  used  to  remonstrate  with 
him.  She  told  him  that  the  bereaved  birds  seemed  to  say, 
"  Cruel  Benedict  Arnold  I "  at  which  the  little  monster  would 
turn  away  and  chuckle. 

Mrs.  Sigourney  does  not  confirm  the  tradition  that  he  ran 
away  from  his  master,  enlisted  in  the  army  during  the  Seven 
Years'  War,  and  deserted.  We  are  left  to  infer  that  he  learned 
his  business  at  Xorwich,  and,  in  due  time,  set  up  for  himself  at 
New  Haven,  where  he  had  a  somewhat  extensive  drug-store, 
and  carried  on  a  trade  with  the  West  Indies  in  vessels  of  his 
own.  The  signboard  that  used  to  be  over  his  drug-store  is  still 
preserved  in  New  Haven. 

At  the  first  tap  of  the  drum  in  the  war  of  the  Kevolution,  ho 
marched  the  company  of  militia  of  which  he  was  captain  to  the 
rendezvous  near  Boston,  and  Connecticut  saw  him  no  more  till 
a  certain  day  in  the  autumn  of  1781,  when  he  returned  in 
command  of  a  body  of  British  troops  to  ravage  the  State  that 
gave  him  birth.  The  people  of  Norwich,  Mrs.  Sigourney  tells 
us,  were  alarmed  one  night  at  seeing  the  southern  sky  illumined 
as  by  a  conflagration,  while  the  low  thunder  of  a  distant  can- 
nonade was  borne  to  them  on  the  southern  breeze.  The  minute- 
men  rushed  to  the  mustering  place ;  horses  were  saddled,  and 
vehicles  made  ready ;  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  the  whole  popula- 
tion capable  of  bearing  arms  were  hastening  to  the  scene  of 
danger.  The  foremost  horseman  soon  passed  the  word  from 
front  to  rear  that  New  London,  the  finest  seaport  town  m  the 


524  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

State,  fourteen  miles  south  of  Norwich,  had  iDeen  fired  by  the 
enemy.  The  men  of  Norwich  pressed  on  with  such  rapidity, 
that  in  tln-ee  hours  from  the  first  alarm  many  of  them  stood 
among  the  smoking  ruins  of  the  town.  The  town  was  destroyed ; 
the  inhabitants,  in  the  chill  of  an  autumn  night,  were  houseless ; 
and  the  brutal  foe  had  fled  beyond  the  reach  of  vengeance. 

Who  had  done  this  infernal  deed  ?  Benedict  Arnold  !  Men 
who  had  known  him  in  other  days  as  an  enterprising  trader 
recognized  him  as  he  sat  upon  his  horse,  calmly  surveying  the 
progress  of  the  flames.  He  had  the  eflfrontery  to  enter  a  house, 
where  often  he  had  been  honorably  entertained  as  a  guest,  and 
there  satisfy  his  hunger  from  the  plunder  of  the  pantry ;  and 
when  he  had  finished  his  repast  he  ordered  the  house  to  be 
fii'ed.  He  is  said  to  have  expressed  his  regi'et  that  he  could  not 
go  as  far  as  Norwich,  and  bum  the  very  house  in  which  he  was 
born. 

To  the  destruction  by  the  fire  were  added  the  horrors  of 
massacre.  On  the  other  side  of  the  river  Thames  was  Fort 
Griswold,  which  Arnold  carried  by  assault  after  a  desperate 
resistance  on  the  part  of  the  garrison.  The  massacre  was  con- 
tinued after  the  garrison  had  surrendered,  and  the  ground  was 
heaped  high  with  dead,  both  British  and  American.  Wives  and 
mothers  hurried  over  from  New  London,  and  were  seen  search- 
ing among  the  dead  and  wounded  for  sons  and  husbands.  Here 
was  a  wife  watching  for  the  last  breath  of  an  expiring  husband, 
and  there  a  mother  shrieking  over  the  just  discovered  body  of 
her  dead  boy.  It  was  a  time  of  such  varied  and  intense  horror 
that  no  words  can  ever  describe  it,  and  the  very  tradition  of  it 
in  New  London  amons^  the  old  families  has  somethins:  of  the 
vividness  of  recent  news.  Many  families  lost  all  they  possessed 
in  the  conflagration  of  the  town ;  and  in  the  massacre  at  the 
fort  fell  those  who  could  have  repaired  the  loss.  Who  can 
realize  the  bitterness  of  the  reflection  at  the  time,  that  all  this 
was  the  work  of  a  man  who  was  a  native  of  the  soil?  Who 
can  wonder  that  the  name  of  Benedict  Arnold  should  be  so 
deeply  and  universally  odious  ? 

The  wages  of  his  miquity  were  not  a©   large  as  they  are 
sometimes  stated.     He  was  paid  a  sum  of  money  equal  to  about 


BENEDICT     ARNOLD.  525 

thirty  tliousaiul  dolliirs  in  gold.  Foolish  old  George  III.  had 
him  often  at  court,  and  paid  him  some  attention,  but  soon  forgot 
and  neglected  him.  All  honorable  Englishmen,  except  a  few 
of  the  most  bigoted  Tories,  despised  and  avoided  him.  One  of 
his  sons  obtained  a  commission  in  the  British  army,  and  died  in 
1854  a  lieutenant-general,  the  highest  rank  in  the  Britisli  service 
except  that  of  general  and  field-marshal.  One  of  Benedict 
Arnold's  grandsons  is  at  this  moment  a  highly  respectal^le  cler- 
gyman of  the  Church  of  England.  To  some  Americans  who 
visited  him  a  few  years  ago  he  spoke  rationally  and  moderately 
respecting  his  grandfather's  conduct,  neither  denouncing  noi 
excusing  it. 


526  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHT. 


CAPTAIN   JAMES   LAWRENCE. 


-•o^ 


Many  readers  are  familiar  with  the  moimment  in  front  of 
Trinity  Church  in  New  York,  which  covers  the  remains  of  Cap- 
tain Lawrence,  whose  dying  injunction,  "Don't  give  up  the 
SHIP  ! "  is  part  of  the  inheritance  of  every  American  citizen.  It  is 
an  elegant  monument  of  brown  stone,  bearing  several  appropriate 
inscriptions.  Every  patriotic  visitor  tp  Old  Trinity  lingers 
around  it,  and  pays  homage  to  the  memorj^  of  a  man  who  gave 
his  life  to  his  country,  and  remained  firm  in  his  devotion  to  her 
while  sufierino'  the  ansfuish  of  a  mortal  wound. 

Such  monuments  as  these  are  a  priceless  possession.  Who 
could  estimate  the  value  to  posterity  of  a  simple,  durable  mon- 
ument in  every  village  cemetery,  to  the  memory  of  the  soldiers 
who  went  from  its  vicinity  and  died  in  the  war  just  closed? 
Such  memorials  need  not  be  splendid  nor  costly.  The  roughest 
piece  of  granite  consecrated  to  such  a  purpose  would  eclipse  the 
most  elaborate  work  of  sculpture,  and  assist  to  keep  alive  the 
patriotic  fire  in  generations  unborn. 

The  tomb  of  Captain  Lawrence  was  opened,  not  long 
smce,  to  receive  the  remains  of  his  widow,  who  survived  him 
fifty-two  years,  and  died  at  Newport,  on  the  fifteenth  of  Sep- 
tember, in  the  seventy-eighth  year  of  her  age.  The  little  com- 
pany of  friends  that  gathered  about  the  hallowed  spot  on  that 
occasion,  were  scarcely  observed  by  the  throng  of  passers-by, 
and  the  event  was  not  noticed  in  the  papers  of  the  next  morn- 
ing. Fifty-six  years  had  elapsed  since  Julia  Montaudevcrt,  a 
lovely  girl  of  nineteen,  the  daughter  of  a  New  York  merchant, 
gave  her  hand  at  the  altar  of  Trinity  to  Lieutenant  Lawrence, 
then  twenty-seven,  and  reputed  the  handsomest  officer  in  the 
American  navy,  as  he  certainly  was  one  of  the  bravest  of  any 


CAPTAIN    JAMES    LAWRENCE.  527 

navy.  She  lived  opposite  the  Bowling  Green,  near  by,  then  the 
most  cleirant,  quiet,  and  fashi()nal)le  quarter  of  New  York.  She 
was  a  wife  but  four  3^ears,  during  much  of  whicli  her  lius])and 
was  absent  on  duty.  She  became  the  mother  of  two  daughters, 
one  of  whom  w\as  born  after  his  death.  She  only  recovered 
from  her  second  confinement  in  time  to  follow  his  remains  to 
the  grave.  Since  that  time  she  has  resided  chiefly  at  Newport, 
an  object  of  interest  and  veneration  to  the  frequenters  of  that 
place.  At  last,  after  more  than  half  a  century  of  widowhood, 
she  retnrns  to  the  home  of  her  childhood,  to  the  church  in  which 
she  plighted  her  faith,  and  lies  down  b}^  the  side  of  her  husband 
never  more  to  be  separated  from  him. 

A  few  old  inhabitants  of  the  city  remember  the  couple,  as 
they  appeared  during  the  honeymoon,  —  she,  a  beautiful,  blush- 
ing bride,  —  he,  clad  in  the  stiff  but  showy  uniform  of  that  day, 
radiant  with  manly  beauty,  and  invested  with  the  charm  of  re- 
cent glory  won  in  battle. 

James  Lawrence,  born  in  1781,  at  Burlington,  in  New  Jersey, 
where  his  fiitherwas  a  lawyer  in  good  practice,  was  one  of  those 
boys  who  loill  go  to  sea,  in  spite  of  all  opposition.  Consequent- 
ly his  father,  who  had  wished  to  bring  him  up  to  his  own  pro- 
fession, yielded  to  the  lad's  decided  preference,  and  obtained  for 
him,  in  his  seventeenth  year,  a  midshipman's  commission  in  the 
infant  navy  of  the  United  States.  Recognized  at  once  as  a  val- 
uable officer,  he  was  acting  lieutenant  at  nineteen,  commissioned 
a  lieutenant  at  twenty-one,  and  first  lieutenant  of  a  schooner  at 
twenty-three. 

His  first  distinction  was  won  in  the  war  with  Tripoli,  in  1804. 
A  serious  disaster  had  befallen  the  navy  in  the  loss  of  the  frigate 
Philadelphia,  which  ran  on  a  reef  in  the  jMeditcrranean ;  and 
being  attacked  by  the  Tripoli  fleet  while  she  lay  helpless  on  the 
rocks,  Captain  Brainbridge  was  compelled  to  surrender.  Him- 
self, his  officers,  and  a  crew  of  nearly  three  hundred  men  were 
carried  away  prisoners  to  Tripoli,  where  they  were  tolerably 
treated  and  held  for  ransom.  The  ship  was  got  afloat,  and  ta- 
ken to  the  same  port,  where  she  was  anchored  under  the  guns 
of  the  town,  while  her  captors  were  repairing  her  for  a  cruise 
against  American  commerce.     So  important  was  it  to  deprive 


528  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  barbarians  of  so  potent  an  engine  of  mischief,  that  the  gal-  " 
lant  Decatur  conceived  the  project  of  running  into  the  harbor 
with  a  small  vessel,  surprising  the  frigate  and  setting  her  on  fire. 
How  neatly  this  was  done,  most  readers  know.  The  surprise 
was  so  complete,  that  Decatur  had  possession  of  the  ship  in  just 
ten  minutes  after  he  had  given  the  order  to  board.  Combusti- 
bles were  all  ready,  and  were  placed  in  various  parts  of  the  ves- 
sel. At  the  signal  they  were  set  on  fire,  and  the  ship,  dry  as 
tinder  from  many  months'  exposure  to  a  tropical  sun,  blazed  up 
with  such  rapidity  that  the  ketch  in  which  the  Americans  had 
boarded  her,  narrowly  escaped  being  involved  in  the  same  con- 
flaofration. 

Flames  leaped  from  the  frigate's  port-holes  and  wreathed  round 
the  masts,  lighting  np  the  bay  with  a  brilliancy  that  was  peri- 
lous in  the  extreme  to  the  victors.  Cutting  with  their  swords 
the  hawser  that  bound  them  to  the  burning  ship,  the  Americans 
—  eighty  in  number  —  gave  three  cheers  and  bent  to  their 
oars. 

The  cannon-balls  of  the  enemy  flew  over  their  heads  and 
dashed  into  the  water  near  them ;  but  the  vigorous  nse  of  six- 
teen sweeps  soon  carried  them  out  of  range,  without  the  loss  of 
a  man. 

In  this  afiliir  Lieutenant  Lawrence  commanded  one  division 
of  the  attacking  party,  and  behaved  with  admirable  coolness 
and  gallantry.  Decatur  pronounced  a  fine  eulogium  upon  him 
when  he  said  :  — 

"  There  is  no  more  dodge  about  Lawrence  than  there  is  about 
the  mainmast." 

Congress  voted  thanks  and  money  to  the  men  engaged  in  this 
spirited  affair.  Lawrence's  share  of  the  money  was  eighty  dol- 
lars, which  he  preferred  not  to  accept. 

The  breaking  out  of  the  war  of  1812  found  Lawrence  in  com- 
mand of  the  sloop-of-war.  Hornet,  eighteen  guns.  It  was  in  this 
vessel  that  he  won  his  famous  victory,  off  the  coast  of  Brazil, 
over  the  English  sloop.  Peacock,  eighteen  guns.  Captain  Peeke. 
Sighting  this  vessel  early  in  the  afternoon  of  February  14th, 
1813,  Commander  Lawrence,  who  was  a  remarkably  skilful 
seaman,  handled  the  Hornet  so  as  to  get  the  advantage  of  the 


CAPTAIN    JAMES    LAWRENCE.  529 

encni}''  in  position.  At  half  pistol  shot  the  vessels  excluuigcd 
broadsides,  and  continued  a  furious  fire,  at  intervals,  for  iii'teeu 
minutes,  the  American  ship  constantly  out-manoeuvring  her  ad- 
versary. The  British  vessel  was  gallantly  fought,  and  her  com- 
mander used  every  exertion  to  regain  the  advantage  of  position. 
Lawrence,  however,  was  too  quick  for  him ;  and  the  gunnery 
of  the  Hornet  was  strikingly  superior  to  that  of  the  Briton.  In 
just  fifteen  minutes  from  the  firing  of  the  first  gun,  the  Peacock 
not  only  struck  her  colors,  but  displayed  a  signal  of  distress. 
In  fact,  she  was  sinking ;  and  though  the  Americans  made  pro- 
digious eflforts  to  keep  her  afloat,  she  went  to  the  bottom  in  an 
hour,  carrying  down  with  her  nine  of  her  own  crew  and  three 
of  the  Hornet's. 

In  this  encounter  the  English  vessel  lost  her  captain  and  four 
men  killed,  and  had  thirty-three  men  wounded,  while  the  Hor- 
net had  but  one  man  killed  and  two  wounded ;  and  was  so  little 
damaged  that  in  three  hours  after  the  contest  closed  she  was 
ready  for  another  engagement. 

These  sea  victories  of  ours  in  the  war  of  1812  were  a  com- 
plete puzzle  to  the  people  of  England.  I  read,  the  other  day, 
a  letter  of  the  poet  Southey,  written  in  May,  1813,  in  which  he 
says :  — 

**  Tom  "  (his  brother,  a  naval  officer)  "  is  made  quite  unhappy- 
by  these  repeated  victories  of  the  Americans ;  and,  for  my  own 
part,  I  regard  them  with  the  deepest  and  gloomiest  forebodings. 
The  superior  weight  of  metal  will  not  account  for  all.  I  heard. 
a  day  or  two  ago,  from  a  Liverpoollan,  lately  in  America,  that 
they  stuff  their  wadding  with  bullets.  This  may  kill  a  few  more 
men,  but  will  not  explain  how  it  is  that  our  ships  are  so  soon 
demolished,  not  merely  disabled.  Wordsworth  (the  poet)  and 
I  agreed  in  suspecting  some  improvement  in  gunnery. 
Peeke  was  certainly  not  a  tyrant;  he  is  well  known  here,  hav- 
ing married  a  cousin  of  Wordsworth  ;  his  ship  was  in  perfect  or- 
der; and  he  as  brave  and  able  a  man  as  any  in  the  service. 
Here  it  seems  the  men  behaved  well ;  but  in  ten  minutes  the 
ship  was  literally  knocked  to  pieces,  —  her  sides  fairly  stove  in  ; 
and  I  think  this  can  only  be  explained  by  some  improvement  in 
31 


530  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  manufacture  of  powder,  or  in  the  manner  of  loading.  .  . 
It  is  in  vain  to  treat  the  matter  lightly,  or  seek  to  conceal  from 
ourselves  the  extent  of  the  evil.  Our  naval  superiority  is  de- 
fitroyed !  " 

I  explain  the  mystery  thus :  The  naval  glories  of  England 
were  chiefly  won  in  combat  with  the  fleets  of  Spain  and  France, 
—  nations  not  at  home  upon  the  sea.  America  is  the  only  an- 
tagonist that  England  ever  encountered  upon  the  ocean  which 
has  a  natural  turn  for  seamanship  equal  to  her  own.  Besides 
this  equality  in  natural  gift,  we  had  the  advantage  of  a  quicker 
brain,  and  an  inveterate  habit  of  improving  upon  old  methods. 
Our  navy,  too,  was  not  oflSicered  from  the  younger  sons  of  aris- 
tocrats, with  whom  it  was  a  rule,  as  Captain  Marryatt  says,  to 
send  to  sea  "the  fool  of  the  family." 

His  hold  being  crowded  with  prisoners,  Lawrence  made  all 
sail  for  the  United  States,  where  the  acclamations  of  the  nation 
welcomed  him.  The  government  promoted  him,  at  the  age  of 
thirty-one,  to  the  rank  of  captain,  the  highest  grade  then  exist- 
ing in  our  navy,  and  Congress  voted  him  thanks  and  a  gold 
medal.  After  enjoying  a  few  weeks  on  shore  the  society  of  his 
wife  and  child,  he  was  assigned  to  the  command  of  the  frigate 
Chesapeake,  then  lying  in  Boston  harbor,  preparing  for  a  cruise 
against  the  enemy's  whaling  fleet  oflf  the  coast  of  Greenland. 

The  British  fris^ate  Shannon  was  blockadino^  Boston  harbor. 
On  the  morning  of  June  1st,  1813,  this  ship  came  into  the  bay, 
as  if  challenging  the  Chesapeake  to  an  engagement.  Captain 
Lawrence,  with  a  crew  dissatisfied  from  the  non-pa^mient  of 
their  prize  money,  his  first  lieutenant  sick  on  shore,  his  officers 
few,  young,  and  inexperienced,  had  determined  to  avoid,  if  pos- 
sible, an  encounter  with  the  Shannon ;  but  this  bold  defiance 
was  too  much  for  his  resolution,  and  he  put  to  sea.  Thirty 
miles  from  shore,  late  in  the  afternoon,  the  well-known  battle 
occurred,  —  one  of  the  shortest,  fiercest,  and  most  destructive 
engagements  that  ever  took  place  between  single  ships.  Aftei 
eight  minutes  of  furious  cannonading  at  very  close  quarters,  in 
which  the  American  ship  gave  more  damage  than  she  received, 
an  anchor  of  the  Shannon  caught  the  rigging  of  the  Chesapeake, 


CAPTAIN    JAMES    LAWRENCE.  531 

which  exposed  her  to  a  raking  fire,  tliat  swept  her  decks.     Both 
captains  instantly  ordered  hoarders  to  he  called  ;  hut  the  hiiglc 
man  of  the  Chesapeake,  a  negro,  had  hid  himself,  and  when  he 
was  found,  he  was  so  paralyzed  hy  terror  that  ho  could  not  sound 
a  note. 

This  delay  at  the  critical  moment  was  fital.  Captain  Law- 
rence, already  wounded  in  the  leg,  received  a  mortal  wound 
through  the  hody,  and  was  carried  below;  and  when  the  Eng- 
lish crew  cautiously  came  on  board,  there  was  not  a  commis- 
sioned officer  unhurt  to  make  head  against  them.  Every  officer 
in  the  ship,  except  two  midshipmen,  mere  hoys,  was  either 
killed  or  wounded.  In  fifteen  minutes  from  the  moment  of  the 
first  broadside,  the  Chesapeake  was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
Both  ships,  as  Cooper  remarks,  were  "  charnel-houses."  On 
board  the  Chesapeake  were  fort3^-eight  killed  and  ninet3'-cight 
woiuided  ;  on  board  the  Shannon,  twenty-three  killed  and  fift}^- 
six  wounded. 

With  regard  to  the  words  uttered  by  Captain  Lawrence  after 
he  had  received  his  mortal  wound,  different  accounts  have  been 
given.  The  popular  version  is,  "Don't  give  up  the  ship." 
Cooper  says  the  words  were,  "  Don't  strike  the  Hag  of  my  ship." 
I  have  been  positively  assured  by  a  venerable  surgeon  of  the 
navy,  who  was  in  the  cockpit  when  the  hero  was  brought  below, 
that  he  heard  Captain  Lawrence  say,  ''Fight  the  ship  till  she 
sinks.'^  Nothing  is  more  probable  than  that  he  used  all  these 
expressions,  and  that "  Don't  give  up  the  ship  "  obtained  currency 
merely  because  it  was  the  shortest  and  handiest. 

Lawrence  lingered  four  days  after  the  battle,  receiving  from 
the  British  officers  the  tenderest  care,  who  also  bestowed  upon 
his  remains  the  respect  due  to  so  brave  a  man.  From  Halifax, 
to  which  both  ships  sailed,  his  body  was  brought  to  New  York, 
where  it  was  followed  to  the  grave  by  vast  numbers  of  officers 
and  civillians.  The  nation  mourned  his  loss,  and  will  forever 
honor  his  memory. 


532  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


DEATH   OF   COMMODORE   DECATUR. 


-•o»- 


I  SUPPOSE  we  all  use  more  freedom  in  speaking  of  one 
another  than  we  do  in  spealdng  to  one  another.  Consequently, 
almost  any  person  can  destroy  a  friendship  or  embitter  an  en- 
mity by  reporting  to  one  man  what  another  man  has  said  o/him. 
To  do  this  is  justly  esteemed  one  of  the  meanest  of  all  actions, 
as  it  is  assuredly  one  of  the  most  mischievous.  The  duel  in 
which  Commodore  Decatur  fell  was  directly  caused  by  this  bad, 
dastardly  practice. 

Stephen  Decatur,  born  in  Maryland,  in  1779,  was  the  Farra- 
GUT  of  his  time.  His  father  before  him  was  a  gallant  officer  in 
the  infant  na^y  of  the  United  States,  captured  several  British 
ships  in  the  revolutionaiy  war,  and  was  retained  in  the  service 
after  the  peace.  In  the  year  1800,  he  was  the  Commodore  of 
the  American  fleet  of  thirteen  vessels  cruising  about  the  AYest 
Indies;  but  when  Mr.  Jefferson  reduced  the  navy,  in  1801, 
Commodore  Decatur  was  retired,  and  he  became  a  merchant  in 
Philadelphia,  where  he  died  in  1808.  The  old  commodore, 
however,  lived  long  enough  to  see  his  son  a  captain  in  the  navy, 
and  the  darling  of  his  countrymen. 

Entering  the  service  as  midshipman  in  1798,  when  he  was 
nineteen,  he  was  a  lieutenant  at  twenty,  and  at  twenty-three  he 
had  reached  the  rank  of  first  lieutenant  of  a  brig,  the  captain 
of  which  was  that  very  James  Barron  who  afterwards  killed 
him.  Two  years  later,  when  om*  brilliant  little  war  with 
Algiers  was  at  its  height,  Decatur  was  in  command  of  the  brig 
Enterprise,  one  of  the  vessels  of  the  fleet  in  the  Mediterranean, 
and  it  was  while  commanding  the  EnteqDrise  that  he  performed 
the  exploit  which  made  him  a  favorite  hero  of  the  American 
people. 


COMMODORE    DECATUR.  533 

The  reader  remembers,  of  course,  that  the  Algerines  had  had 
the  hick  to  catch  a  line  American  frigate,  the  Philadelphia, 
aground  and  helpless,  with  her  guns  overboard ;  and  that  they 
captured  her  and  took  her  into  the  harbor  of  Tripoli,  where 
they  were  fitting  her  out  for  a  cruise,  Bainb ridge,  her  captain, 
while  a  prisoner  at  Tripoli,  contrived  to  send  word  to  Commo- 
dore Preble  that  the  Philadelphia  was  carelessly  guarded  and 
could  easily  be  surprised  and  burnt.  The  Commodore  consulted 
Lieutenant  Decatur  upon  the  project,  and  Decatur,  the  bravest 
of  the  brave,  supported  it  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  his  age 
and  character.  Commodore  Prel)le  came  into  the  scheme,  and 
named  young  Decatur  commander  of  the  expedition.  Lieuten- 
ant Decatur  called  for  volunteers,  and  every  man  and  boy  on 
board  his  brig  expressed  a  willingness  to  join.  Sixtj'-two  of 
the  best  men  were  picked  from  the  eager  crew,  who,  with 
twelve  officers,  were  transferred  to  a  small  Algerian  vessel 
belonging  to  Tripoli,  captured  a  few  days  before,  and  now 
rechristened  the  Litrepid. 

It  was  a  still,  fine  evening  in  February,  1803,  at  ten  o'clock, 
when  the  Intrepid  glided  slowly  and  noiselessly  into  the  harbor, 
Decatur  at  the  helm,  a  Greek  pilot  at  his  side,  and  the  crew 
hdng  along  the  deck.  So  complete  was  the  surprise,  and  so 
well  concerted  the  attack,  that  in  just  ten  minutes  from  the  time 
the  Intrepid  touched  the  frigate  the  Americans  had  possession 
of  her.  Decatur  was  the  second  man  to  reach  her  deck,  Charles 
Morris,  midshipman,  having  jumped  two  seconds  before  him. 
Everything  having  been  provided  beforehand  for  burning  the 
ship,  the  fire  burst  forth  with  such  unexpected  rapidity  that  the 
Intrepid  narrowly  escaped  catching.  The  work  having  been 
accomplished,  a  light  breeze  from  shore  sprang  up  in  the  nick 
of  time  and  wafted  the  little  vessel  gently  out  of  the  harbor, 
lighted  on  her  way  by  the  flames,  and  saluted  by  the  harmless 
thunder  of  Aloferian  o^uus. 

This  gallant  ex^Dloit  made  Decatur  a  captain.  Without  dwell- 
ing on  his  subsequent  career,  I  can  truly  say  that  it  was  all  of  a 
piece  with  this  brilliant  opening. 

Far  diflerent  was  it  with  James  BaiTon.  Barron,  a  native  of 
Virginia,  and,  like  Decatur,  the  son  of  a  revolutionary  commc- 


534  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY. 

dore,  entered  the  navy  in  the  same  year  as  Decatur,  and  out. 
stripped  him  in  the  race  for  promotion.  A  year  after  he  entered 
the  service,  being  then  thirty-one  years  of  age,  he  was  a  captain, 
and  he  continued  to  rise  in  the  esteem  of  his  countrymen  until 
the  year  1807,  when  a  sad  misfortune  befell  him,  which  cast  a 
shadow  over  all  his  subsequent  life. 

June  22d,  1807,  the  United  States  being  at  peace  with  all 
the  world,  the  American  frigate  Chesapeake,  thirty-eight  guns, 
under  command  of  Commodore  Barron,  left  her  anchorage  in 
Hampton  Roads,  and  stood  out  to  sea,  bound  for  the  Mediter- 
ranean. About  the  same  horn'  the  British  frigate  Leopard, 
fifty  guns,  which  had  been  lying  for  some  time  at  the  same 
anchorage,  also  put  to  sea,  and  being  in  better  trim  than  the 
Chesapeake,  and  much  better  manned,  got  ahead  of  her  some 
miles.  But  at  three  in  the  afternoon  she  wore  round,  bore 
down  upon  the  Chesapeake,  and  sent  a  boat  to  her,  with  a 
despatch  demanding  to  search  the  American  ship  for  four  de- 
serters from  the  English  navy.  Commodore  Barron  replied 
that  he  knew  of  no  such  deserters,  and  that  his  orders  did  not 
allow  his  crew  to  be  mustered  by  any  officers  but  their  own. 
No  sooner  had  the  boat  returned  with  this  reply,  than  the 
British  ship  fii'ed  a  broadside  full  into  the  American  at  short 
range.  The  Chesapeake,  her  decks  littered  with  stores  and 
animals,  her  crew  undisciplined,  her  warlike  apparatus  all  un- 
ready for  use,  could  not  fire  a  shot  in  her  defence  ;  and  conse- 
quently, when,  by  the  continuous  fire  of  the  Leopard,  three  of 
the  American  crew  had  been  killed  and  eighteen  wounded,  one 
of  whom  was  the  commodore  himself,  and  when  there  were  twen- 
ty-one shot  in  the  hull  of  the  Chesapeake,  BaiTon  struck  his 
colors.  The  English  captain  made  the  search,  took  aAvay  the 
four  alleged  deserters,  and  sailed  off",  leaving  the  crippled  Ches- 
apeake to  get  back  to  Hampton  Eoads  as  best  she  could. 

Commodore  Barron  was  tried  by  a  com't-martial  for  going  to 
sea  unprepared  to  defend  his  ship,  and  the  public  clamored  for 
his  punishment.  His  defence  was  that  his  captain  had  informed 
him  in  writing  that  the  ship  was  ready  to  sail,  and  that,  the 
United  States  and  Great  Britain  being  at  peace,  the  attack  was 
not  to  have  been  anticipated.    The  Q:)urt  pronounced  the  defence 


COMMODOKE    DECATUR.  535 

insufficient,  and  sentenced  him  to  three  years'  suspension  with- 
out pay.  When  the  war  broke  out  in  1812,  he  Avas  not  ap- 
pointed to  a  ship. 

Among  those  who  opposed  the  reinstatement  of  Barron  Avere 
the  majority  of  the  naval  captains,  and  no  one  opposed  it  so 
openly  and  decidedly  as  Decatur.  He  thought  that  Barron  had 
been  to  blame  in  the  affair  of  the  Chesapeake.  He  also  thought 
that,  as  there  w^ere  so  few  ships  in  the  navy,  they  ought  to  be 
commanded  by  men  who  had  distinguished  themselves  during 
the  war.  It  is  evident,  too,  that  he  had  lent  a  too  credulous 
ear  to  the  calumnies  in  circulation  respecting  Barron's  conduct 
since  the  Chesapeake  disaster.  In  short,  he  had  a  very  bad 
opinion  of  Commodore  Barron  as  an  officer,  and  this  bad  opinion 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  expressing  with  the  careless  frankness  of 
a  sailor.  Mean  intermeddlers  communicated  the  fact,  with  the 
usual  exaggerations,  to  Barron,  who  was  sore  and  sensitive  from 
his  long  endiu:ance  of  what  he  felt  to  be  injustice.  In  June, 
1819,  he  addressed  a  note  to  Decatur  to  this  effect :  — 

"  Sir, — I  have  been  iufoiTned  in  Norfolk  that  j^ou  have  said 
that  you  could  insult  me  with  impunity,  or  words  to  that  effect. 
K  you  have  said  so  you  wdll  no  doubt  avow  it,  and  I  shall 
expect  to  hear  from  you." 

Commodore  Decatur's  reply  was  evidently  intended  to  be 
offensive.     The  italics  are  his  own  :  — 

"Sir, — I  have  received  your  communication  of  the  12th 
instant.  Before  you  could  have  been  entitled  to  the  information 
you  have  asked  of  me,  you  should  have  given  up  the  name  of 
your  informer.  That  frankness  which  ought  to  characterize  om* 
profession  required  it.  I  shall  not,  however,  refuse  to  answer 
you  on  that  account,  but  shall  be  as  candid  in  my  communication 
to  you  as  your  letter  or  the  case  will  warrant. 

"Whatever  I  may  have  thought  or  said,  in  the  very  frequent 
and  free  conversations  I  have  had  respecting  you  and  your  con- 
duct^ I  feel  a  thorough  conviction  that  I  never  could  have  been 


536  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

guilty  of  so  mucli  egotism  as  to  say  that  '  I  could  insult  you ' 
(or  any  other  man)  *  with  impunity.'  " 

Commodore  Barron,  in  his  reply,  said  :  — 

"  Your  declaration,  if  I  understand  it  correctly,  relieves  my 
mind  from  the  apprehension  that  you  had  so  degraded  my 
character  as  I  had  been  induced  to  allege." 

Here  the  correspondence  ought  to  have  closed.  Decatur, 
however,  as  though  determined  upon  a  quarrel,  wrote  again, 
and  more  stingingly  than  before  :  — 

"As  you  have  expressed  yourself  doubtfully  as  to  your 
correct  understanding  of  my  letter  of  the  aforesaid  date,  I  have 
now  to  state,  and  I  request  you  to  understand  distinctly,  that  I 
meant  no  more  than  to  disclaim  the  specific  and  j^ctrticular  ex- 
pression to  which  your  inquiry  was  directed ;  to  wit,  that  I  had 
said  that  I  could  insult  you  with  impunity.  As  to  the  motives 
of  the  *  several  gentlemen  of  Norfolk,'  your  informants,  or  the 
rumors,  *  which  cannot  be  traced  to  their  origin,'  on  which  their 
information  was  founded,  or  who  they  are,  it  is  a  matter  of  per- 
fect indifference  to  me,  as  are  also  your  motives  in  making  such 
an  inquiry  upon  such  information." 

Commodore  Barron  justly  interpreted  this  letter  as  a  defiance, 
and  he  immediately  challenged  Decatur.  A  very  long  corre- 
spondence followed,  in  which  it  is  evident  that  Barron  did  not 
desire  a  hostile  meeting,  and  that  Decatur  was  irreconcilably 
opposed  to  a  friendly  termination  of  the  dispute.  Decatur's 
letters  were  most  exasperating.  He  concluded  the  last  of  his 
long  letters  in  these  words  :  — 

"  Your  offering  your  life  to  me  would  be  quite  affecting,  and 
might  (as  you  evidently  intend)  excite  sympathy,  if  it  were  not 
ridiculous.  It  will  not  be  lost  sight  of  that  your  jeopardizing 
your  life  depends  upon  yourself,  and  not  upon  me  ;  aiKl  is  done 
with  the  view  of  fighting  your  own  character  up.     I  have  now 


COMMODORE    DECATUR.  537 

to  inform  you  that  I  shall  pay  no  further  attention  to  any 
communication  you  may  make  to  me,  other  than  a  direct  call  to 
the  field." 

To  this  the  still  reluctant  Ban'on  replied :  — 

"  Whenever  you  will  consent  to  meet  me  on  fair  and  equal 
grounds,  that  is,  such  as  two  honorable  men  may  consider  just 
and  proper,  you  are  at  liberty  to  view  this  as  that  call.  The 
whole  tenor  of  your  conduct  to  me  justifies  this  course  of  pro- 
ceeding on  my  part.  As  for  your  charges  and  remarks,  I 
regard  them  not,  —  particularly  your  S3rmpathy.  You  know  not 
such  a  feeling.  I  cannot  be  suspected  of  making  the  attempt 
to  excite  it." 

Decatur  answered :  — 

"Sir,  —  I  have  received  your  communication  of  the  16th, 
and  am  at  a  loss  to  know  what  your  intention  is.  If  you  intend 
it  as  a  challenge,  I  accept  it,  and  refer  you  to  my  friend  Com- 
modore Bainbridge,  who  is  fully  authorized  by  me  to  make  any 
arrangement  he  pleases,  a?  regards  weapons,  mode,  or  distance." 

This  correspondence,  which  began  in  June,  1819,  did  not 
terminate  till  February,  1820,  and  the  fatal  meeting  was  de- 
layed seven  weeks  longer  by  the  sickness  of  Commodore 
Barron.  At  length,  on  the  22d  of  March,  1820,  the  two 
officers  met  at  Bladensburgh  to  decide  their  long  controversy 
by  the  pistol. 

A  considerable  number  of  naval  officers,  besides  the  seconds, 
were  on  or  near  the  field.  One  of  the  antaijonists  beinj?  near- 
sighted,  they  were  placed  at  the  distance  of  eight  paces.  When 
they  were  in  position,  BaiTon  said  to  Decatur  :  — 

"I  hope  on  meeting  in  another  world  we  shall  be  better 
friends  than  in  this." 

"  I  have  never  been  your  enemy,  sir,"  was  Decatur's  reply. 

The  word  being  given,  they  fired  so  exactly  together  that  it 
Bounded  like   the   report   of  one   pistol.      Barron   fell,  badly 


538       PEOPLE'S  BOOK  OE  BIOGRAPHY. 

wounded.  Decatur  was  about  to  fall,  but  was  caught,  and 
staggered  forward  a  few  steps,  and  sank  down  close  to  Barron ; 
and,  as  they  lay  on  the  ground,  both  expecting  to  die,  they 
conversed  together  as  follows  —  as  near  as  could  be  collected  : 

"Let  us,"  said  Barron,  "make  friends  before  we  meet  in 
heaven.  Ever^i^hing  has  been  conducted  in  the  most  honorable 
manner,  and  I  forgive  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart." 

"  I  have  never  been  your  enemy,"  Decatur  replied,  "  and  I 
freely  forgive  you  my  death,  though  I  cannot  forgive  those  who 
stimulated  jou  to  seek  my  life." 

"Would  to  God,"  said  Barron,  "that  you  had  said  as  much 
yesterday ! " 

According  to  one  witness,  Decatur  added  :  — 

"  God  bless  you,  Barron." 

To  which  Barron  replied,  "  God  bless  you,  Decatur." 

The  wounded  men  were  then  removed  to  their  lodgings. 
Before  the  dawn  of  the  next  day  Decatm:  breathed  his  last ;  but 
Barron,  after  suffering  severely  for  several  months,  recovered 
his  health.  He  was  eventually  restored  to  the  full  honors  of 
his  profession,  and  lived  to  the  year  1851,  when  he  died,  aged 
eighty-three,  the  senior  officer  of  the  navy. 


^'■^-^ 


jjWiA    -      ••  '^'■^i'f"'   ^   ^ 


1  y  s  .  c= 


/  <y//^ 


7  ^^         / 

ANIEQU?:  HUS'l   . 


*ULIUS    CiESAK.  539 


JULIUS    C^SAR. 


Louis  Napoleon  has  recently  given  the  world  the  first  volume 
of  a  Life  of  Julius  Caesar,  the  obvious  design  of  Avhich  is  to 
justify  his  own  conduct  in  seizing  the  throne  of  France.  The 
subject  was  well  chosen  for  his  purpose,  but  he  should  have  pul)- 
lished  it  in  another  man's  name,  for  no  one  much  regards  what 
an  accused  person  has  to  say  in  his  own  defence.  It  is  better 
for  a  criminal  to  employ  a  skilful  advocate  than  to  jolead  his  own 
cause.  We  must  own,  however,  that  there  are  points  of  re- 
semblance both  between  Caesar  and  the  fii-st  Xapoleon,  and  Ijc- 
t^^een  Augustus,  his  successor,  and  Napoleon  III. 

Cains  Julius  Cassar,  born  July  12th,  one  hundred  years  be- 
fore Christ,  owed  his  first  popularity  among  the  people  of  Rome 
to  the  fact  that,  though  born  to  noble  rank,  he  joined  the  party 
opposed  to  the  ancient  aristocracy.  He  courted  the  people  by 
giving  them  gladiatorial  shows  and  public  banquets,  in  which  he 
wasted  his  estate  and  involved  himself  in  enoiTuous  debts.  Ad- 
vanced, at  an  early  age,  to  public  office,  and  holding  a  seat  in 
the  Senate,  he  employed  his  power  and  cast  his  vote  oq  the  pop- 
ular side,  and  was  held  in  great  esteem  by  the  people  before  he 
had  dazzled  them  by  victories  in  the  field.  Nature  appeared 
not  to  have  formed  him  for  a  wan-ior ;  for,  in  early  life,  he  was 
Blender  and  of  weakly  constitution,  and  seemed  chiefly  to  desire 
distinction  as  an  orator  and  political  leader.  Napoleon,  also, 
was  of  so  diminutive  a  figure,  so  pale,  thin,  and  insignificant 
looking,  that,  one  day,  in  presenting  himself  in  uniform  to  the 
lady  whom  he  was  courting,  she  burst  into  the  most  immoder- 
ate laughter  at  the  ludicrous  contrast  between  his  a2:)pearance 
and  his  martial  costume.     Napoleon,  too,  began  his  career  as  a 


540  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

radical  republican,  and  served  first  in  the  armies  of  the  Ee^ 
public. 

Csesar  was  thirty -six  years  of  age  before  he  had  commanded 
an  army.  His  military  career  lasted  eighteen  years,  during 
which  he  conquered  part  of  Spain,  the  whole  of  France,  a  large 
portion  of  Germany,  and  made  two  incursions  into  Great  Brit- 
ain. As  a  general,  he  strikingly  resembles  Napoleon,  especially 
in  the  astonishing  rapidity  of  his  movements,  and  in  his  tact  in 
secm'ing  the  confidence,  the  homage,  the  enthusiastic  devotion 
of  his  troops.  His  tactics  in  war,  and  his  policy  after  triumph, 
were  precisely  those  of  Napoleon.  When,  by  swift  marches, 
by  skilful  and  unexpected  concentrations  of  force,  he  had  over- 
whelmed and  paralyzed  the  enemy,  and  the  conquered  country 
lay  before  him  despahdng  and  utterly  helpless,  then  he  was  ac- 
customed to  conquer  anew  by  clemency,  by  ofiering  peace  on 
terms  unexpectedly  favorable,  by  heaping  honors  and  bounties 
on  the  chiefs.  There  never  was  a  greater  general.  After  the 
closest  study  of  the  campaigns  of  both,  we  should  be  inclined 
to  accord  to  Caesar  and  Napoleon  equal  rank  as  soldiers,  but  for 
the  fact  that  Napoleon  was  Caesar's  jpujpil.  At  college.  Napo- 
leon studied  Caesar's  tactics,  and  in  the  field  he  applied  them  to 
modern  circumstances,  methods,  and  weapons.  Caesar  was  his 
master  in  everything ;  but  it  is  only  a  giant  that  can  tread  in  a 
giant's  footsteps.  Only  a  man  of  genius  can  be  truly  the  pupil 
of  a  man  of  genius. 

After  more  than  ten  years  of  conquest,  Caesar,  the  idol  of  his 
soldiers  and  of  the  Eoman  people,  was  still  regarded  with  jeal- 
ous hatred  by  the  aristrocratic  faction  at  Eome,  the  head  of 
which  was  Pompey,  a  great  soldier,  but  a  weak,  vain,  ambitious 
man.  This  faction,  at  length,  drove  from  the  Senate  and  from 
the  city  Caesar's  leading  friends,  who  fled  toward  the  camp  of 
their  chief.  "  The  die  is  cast,"  exclaimed  Caesar.  He  led  his 
veteran  legions  across  the  Eubicon,  and  made  open  war  upon 
Pompey.  Two  short,  swift,  and  masterly  campaigns  sufficed 
for  the  total  destruction  of  his  enemies,  and  Pompey  himself 
was  slain,  and  his  head  brought  to  Caesar.  The  victor  was  as 
clement  in  this  new  triumph  as  he  had  been  when  warring  against 
the  Germans  and  the  Gauls.     The  chiefs  of  the  aristocratic  party 


JULIUS     CiESAR.  5^-1 

were  promptly  pardoned,  and  many  of  them  were  placed  in 
high  commands.  Brutus,  who  had  served  under  Ctesar,  and 
Tvho  had  sided  with  Pompey,  was  one  of  those  whom  Cajsar  for- 
gave, and  advanced  to  the  governorship  of  a  province.  Of  all 
the  host  who  had  been  in  arms  against  him,  not  one  man  was 
executed,  nor  the  estate  of  one  man  confiscated,  —  the  aim  of  the 
conqueror  being  to  restore  peace  to  his  distracted  country,  that 
he  might  at  once  begin  the  execution  of  his  still  vaster  designs. 

Julius  Csesar,  at  the  age  of  forty-seven,  was  master  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  Roman  world.  The  ancient  forms  of  repub- 
lican government  were  carefully  preserved ;  but  not  the  less  was 
the  whole  power  of  the  state  wielded  by  one  man.  lie  appeared 
to  desire  to  use  his  power  for  the  good  of  the  country.  IIo 
built  temples,  established  new  military  posts,  sent  forth  colo- 
nies, restored  the  cities  injured  in  the  civil  wars,  corrected  the 
calendar,  projected  a  survey  of  the  empire,  and  a  codification 
of  the  laws.  But  he  was  not  satisfied  with  these  peaceful  con- 
quests. He  seemed,  as  Plutarch  remarks,  as  jealous  of  his  old 
renown  as  though  that  renown  belonged  to  another  man,  and  ho 
burned  for  new  triumphs,  so  dazzling  that  they  should  cast  into 
the  shade  all  his  previous  achievements.  Aiming  at  nothing  less 
than  the  subjection  of  the  world  to  his  imperial  sway,  he  pre- 
pared to  transport  his  legions  to  the  remotest  frontiers  of  the 
empire,  and  saw,  in  prospect,  the  whole  earth  under  Roman  laws 
and  institutions,  governed  by  Roman  lieutenants,  all  owning  al- 
legiance to  the  central  power  —  himself.  This  was  Xapoleons 
error  too.  Napoleon  appeared  entirely  great  until  he  assumed 
the  trivialities  of  the  imperial  dignity,  and  pretended  to  give 
away  kingdoms.  It  is  the  error  natural  to  men  whose  talents 
are  immense,  and  whose  souls  are  little. 

In  the  plenitude  of  his  power,  CaBsar  became  haughty,  irrita- 
ble, harsh  toward  the  nobles,  impatient  of  contradiction,  rest- 
less. He  needlessly  wounded  the  self-love  of  those  who  served 
him,  —  an  error  he  had  never  committed  when  he  was  climbing 
to  the  throne  of  the  world,  —  an  error  which  truly  great  men 
never  knowingly  commit.  In  the  midst  of  the  execution  of 
his  gigantic  schemes,  a  conspiracy  was  formed  against  him,  which 
aimed  at  his  life.     Of  the  men  engaged  in  it,  all  but  Brutus 


542  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGEAPHY. 

seem  to  have  been  actuated  by  personal  and  petty  motives. 
Some  of  them  were  offended  that  an  old  comrade  should  have 
attained  such  a  height  above  them.  Some  had  grudges  to 
avenge,  and  others  hoped  to  rise  upon  the  ruins  of  his  povver. 
Brutus  alone  appears  to  have  thought  that  the  death  of  the  des- 
pot would  restore  to  Eome  its  ancient  libert}^  and  it  was  his 
name  that  gave  something  of  dignity  to  the  plot. 

The  spring  of  the  year  forty-four,  B.  C,  arrived.  Rome  was 
all  astir  with  the  departing  legions  and  the  noise  of  the  dicta- 
tor's mighty  schemes.  Coesar  still  walked  the  streets  of  Eome 
unattended,  and  had  no  guard  about  his  house,  nor  any  escort 
when  he  went  to  the  senate-house.  Rumors  were  industriously 
circulated  that  he  meant  to  assume  the  title  of  king  —  a  name 
of  horror  to  the  Romans.  True  he  had  thrice  refused  the  prof- 
fered crown,  in  the  sight  of  the  people ;  but  many  imagined, 
and  Brutus  among  them,  that  he  had  refused  it  as  a  woman  often 
refuses  the  thing  she  covets  most,  —  refused  it  that  it  might  be 
the  more  strenuously  thrust  upon  him. 

On  the  morning  of  the  ides  (the  15th)  of  March,  Cresar  en- 
tered the  senate-house.  The  Senate  rose,  as  usual,  to  do  him 
honor.  He  took  his  usual  seat.  On  the  pretence  of  asking  the 
recall  of  a  man  whom  he  had  banished,  the  conspirators  gath- 
ered round  Iiis  chair.  He  gave  them,  at  length,  a  positive  de- 
nial, and,  as  they  continued  their  importunities,  he  grew  angry. 
One  of  the  men  then  seized  the  collar  of  his  robe  and  drew  it 
off  his  shoulders,  which  was  the  preconcerted  signal  of  attack. 
Another,  with  nerveless  hand,  struck  at  his  neck  with  his  sword, 
inflicting  a  slight  wound.  Coasar,  astonished,  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  sword,  and  said  :  — 

"  Villain  !     Casca  !  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

At  once  the  whole  party  drew  their  swords,  and  Caesar  saw 
himself  hedged  about  witli  bristling  points.  He  stood  at  bay, 
with  his  drawn  sword,  and  defended  himself  as  became  him, 
until  Brutus  thrust  his  sword  into  his  groin.  Then,  it  is  said, 
he  uttered  the  memorable  words  :  — 

"  Thou,  too,  Brutus  I '» 


JULIUS    CiESAR.  543 

and,  dropping  the  i^oint  of  his  sword,  gave  up  the  struggle,  and 
fell  pierced  wilh  twenty-three  wounds. 

Fifteen  years  of  civil  war  followed  the  assassination  of  Julius 
Cajsar.      At  the  time  of  his  death,  his  nephew,   Octavius,   a 
youth  of  nineteen,  was  travelling  with  his  tutor.     No  one  sup- 
posed that  this  young  man  would  so  much  as  dare  to  come  to 
Rome  to  claim  his  uncle's  private  estate.     He  l)oldly  appeared, 
however,  and  joined  in  the  strife  for  the  slain  emperor's  power. 
Some  of  his  rivals  he  overcame  by  management  and  flatteiy ; 
others  were  destroyed  by  their  own  vices ;  some  he  overthrew 
in  battle;  and,  at  length,   assuming  the  title  of  Augustus,  ho 
wielded  the  Avhole  authority  of  Caesar,  and  ruled  the  vast  Ro- 
man empire  peacefully  and  ably  for  forty  years.     He,  too,  re- 
spected and  preserved  the  ancient  forms  of  the  republic.     Un- 
der him  a  body  called  the  Senate  still  held  its  sessions,  and  men 
styled  consuls  were  elected.     But  Augustus  was,  in  flict,  abso- 
lute sovereic^n  of  the  civilized  world. 

This  is  the  man  with  whom  Louis  Napoleon  desires  to  be 
compared.  Like  him,  he  is  called  the  nephew  of  his  imperial 
predecessor ;  but  Cossar  had  only  adopted  the  flither  of  Octa- 
vius as  his  relative,  and  upon  Louis  Napoleon's  kinship  with 
Napoleon  doubts  have  been  cast.  Augustus  won  his  throne  by 
a  strange  mixture  of  cruelty,  cunning,  and  audacity.  Louis 
Napoleon's  throne  was  gained  by  craft  more  than  by  courage; 
it  was  founded  in  perjury  and  blood.  He  will,  perhaps,  en- 
deavor to  show,  by  and  by,  that  France  could  be  saved  from 
anarchy  only  by  destroying  its  liberty.  So,  doubtless,  Julius 
Cresar  reasoned,  and  so  the  first  Napoleon. 

The  answer  is  simple  :  they  never  tried  to  save  order  and  lil>- 
erty.  They  attempted  only  the  easier  task  of  concentrating  all 
power  in  their  own  hands.  Theirs  was  the  small  ambition  of 
founding  a  dynasty,  and  not  the  grand  ambition  of  regenerat- 
ing a  country.  With  all  their  amazing  gifts,  history  pronounces 
them  little  men,  because  they  employed  their  gifts  for  an  object 
beneath  a  great  man,  —  their  own  gloiy. 

To  my  mind,  poor  Charles  Goodyear,  battling  with  India- 
rubber,  carrying  his  pot  of  lime  up  Broadway  to  Greenwich 
village,  wrestling  with  his  material  for  ten  years  till  he  had  sub- 


5M  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGRAPHY. 

dued  it  to  a  tliousaud  useful  purposes,  is  a  more  august  figure, 
tKau  any  of  the  Caesars  or  either  Napoleon.  Nevertheless, 
while  the  majority  of  mankind  are  sunk  in  ignorance  and  super- 
stition, Caesars  and  Napoleons  are  inevitable.  As  a  choice  of 
evils,  they  are  sometimes  even  to  be  desired.  The  school-mas- 
ter and  the  newspaper,  good  books  and  enlightened  men 
will  gi'adually  render  them,  first  unnecessary  and  then  impos- 
sible. 


LEWIS    CASS.  545 


lEWIS   CASS. 


.bEi'ROiT,  which  is  one  of  our  handsomest  and  most  vigorous 
cities,  has  one  of  the  prettiest  streets  in  it  I  ever  saw.  This 
street,  a  mile  or  two  in  length,  is  lined  on  both  sides  with 
remarkably  elegant  villas  and  cottages  in  the  modern  style, 
separated  from  one  another,  and  surrounded  by  lawns  and  gar- 
dens, and  the  whole  well  shaded  with  trees.  These  houses  are 
so  new  and  fresh  in  appearance  that  a  stranger  might  almost 
imagine  the  street  to  be  an  architectural  fair,  to  which  each 
architect  in  the  country  had  sent  a  specimen  of  his  skill  for  ex- 
hibition. But  there  is  one  house  in  it  that  presents  a  strong 
contrast  to  the  rest.  It  is  a  large,  brown,  old-fashioned  farm- 
house, a  story  and  a  half  high,  that  looks  as  though  it  might 
have  been  standing  there  when  Hull  surrendered  the  town  in 
1812.  This  was  the  residence  for  forty  years  of  the  late  Lewis 
Cass.  He  was  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  State  of  Michigan ; 
but,  although  his  neighbors,  one  after  another,  built  residences 
for  themselves  in  the  new  fashion,  with  all  the  modern  improve- 
ments, the  old  man  stuck  to  the  old  house  to  the  last.  He  died 
there,  at  the  age  of  eighty-four. 

He  was,  indeed,  a  very  plain  man  in  his  habits  and  tastes.  I 
remember  being  in  the  White  House  at  "Washington,  one  rainy 
afternoon,  during  the  administration  of  Mr.  Buchanan,  under 
whom  General  Cass  was  secretary  of  state.  Suddenly  there 
■was  a  shuffling  noise  overhead,  indicating  that  the  cabinet  meet- 
ing had  broken  up,  and  that  its  members  were  about  to  come 
downstairs.  The  secretary  of  state,  a  portly  gentleman  with 
white  hair  and  a  reddish  face,  looking  the  very  picture  of  an  old 
farmer,  came  down  among  the  first,  chatting  and  laughing.  It 
was  pleasant  to  see  the  chief  of  the  cabinet  go  down  the  marble 

i5 


546  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

steps  of  the  president's  house  to  where  stood  an  old-fashioned 
gig,  with  an  old-fashioned  horse  tied  to  the  railing,  and  to  watch 
him  while  he  untied  the  horse  with  his  own  hands,  get  into  the 
ancient  vehicle  and  drive  slowly  away.  It  had  a  democratic 
look,  as  we  say.  We  have  had  one  secretary  of  state  who  rode 
about  AVashino^ton  in  a  carria£re  ana  four,  with  servants  in 
livery.  General  Cass  in  his  gig  was  a  far  more  dignified 
object. 

Of  all  the  men  who  have  figured  in  public  life  in  the  United 
States,  Lewis  Cass  was  the  person  who  had  the  longest  and 
most  varied  experience.  He  was  a  servant  of  the  public  for 
sixty  years,  in  the  course  of  which  he  filled  almost  every  kind 
of  office  and  performed  almost  every  kind  of  duty  which  can 
over  devolve  upon  a  citizen  of  the  United  States. 

Every  school-boy  knows  how  the  men  of  New  England,  as 
soon  as  they  heard  of  the  shedding  of  blood  at  Lexington, 
shouldered  their  old  muskets  and  hastened  to  join  the  army 
ofatherins:  around  Boston.  One  of  those  who  did  so  was 
Jonathan  Cass,  aged  nineteen,  a  New-Hampshire  man,  living 
near  Exeter  in  that  State.  Entering  a  New  Hampshire  regi- 
ment as  a  private,  he  fought  at  Bunker  Hill,  served  through  the 
whole  war,  rose  to  the  rank  of  captain,  and  approved  himself 
so  good  a  soldier  that  he  was  retained  in  the  army  when  the  war 
was  over,  and  promoted  to  the  rank  of  major.  This  faithful 
soldier  was  the  father  of  the  late  Lewis  Cass,  who  was  born  at 
Exeter,  New  Hampshire,  in  1782,  just  as  the  revolution  was 
closing,  and  the  old  soldiers  Avere  going  home. 

After  the  w^ar.  Major  Cass  was  much  employed  in  the  Ohio 
country  against  the  Lidians,  and  thus  became  acquainted  with 
the  region  lying  along  the  Ohio  river,  —  then  a  wilderness.  In 
the  year  1800  he  resigned  his  commission  and  removed  his 
family  across  the  Alleghany  mountains  to  the  new  settlement  of 
Marietta,  the  outpost  of  civilization.  Lewis,  however,  remained 
behind.  After  studying  awhile  at  the  academy  at  Exeter,  he  had 
gone  to  Wilmington,  Delaware,  where  he  had  obtained  employ- 
ment as  a  teacher.  When  he  was  eighteen  years  old  he  walked 
from  Wilmington  to  Pittsburgh  (four  hundred  and  fifty  miles) ,  and 
from  Pittsburgh  floated  down  to  Marietta  (one  hundred  miles}  in  a 


LETVIS     CASS.  O-iT 

flalboat,  to  join  his  father,  who  was  about  settling  upon  a  tract  of 
land  assigned  him  as  his  bounty  for  service  in  the  revolutionary 
war.  Lewis  was  not  inclined  to  agriculture,  and  while  his  father 
was  getting  his  farm  in  order,  he  studied  law  at  Marietta  ;  where, 
in  due  time,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  He  was  just  twenty 
years  of  age  when  he  hung  out  his  tin  sign  at  the  new  settle- 
ment of  Zanesville,  informing  the  people  that  Lewis  Cass  had 
come  among  them  to  practise  the  profession  of  the  law.  The 
settlers  of  the  western  country  (what  with  incorrect  land  sur- 
veys and  the  credit  sj^stem)  found  plenty  of  business  for 
lawyers.  In  four  years  Lewis  Cass  had  so  much  practice  that 
he  felt  it  safe  to  marry,  and  had  so  won  the  confidence  of  his 
fellow-citizens  that  they  elected  him  a  member  of  the  legislature. 
This  w\as  in  1806,  when  he  was  twenty-four  years  of  age. 

About  the  time  that  the  people  of  Zanesville  were  casting 
their  votes  for  Lew^is  Cass,  President  Jefferson,  alarmed  by 
rumors  of  what  Aaron  Burr  was  doing  in  the  "Western  country, 
sent  a  secret  messenofer,  Georire  Graham,  to  investiirate  the 
matter.  Graham  went  to  Marietta,  where  he  found  fifteen 
large  flatboats  building,  under  the  direction  of  Blenncrhassett, 
Burr's  confederate.  Pretending  to  be  one  of  Burr's  contidants, 
he  wormed  out  of  Blenncrhassett  all  he  knew  of  the  enterprise ; 
then,  revealing  his  true  character,  entreated  him  to  abandon  the 
scheme.  Blenncrhassett  refused.  Graham  next  went  to  Chilli- 
cothe,  then  the  capital  of  Ohio,  where  the  legislature  was  just 
assemblinc^,  —  Lewis  Cass  amono^  them.  The  mcsscnirer  dis- 
closed  to  the  governor  of  the  State  the  nature  of  his  errand,  told 
him  what  he  had  discovered,  and  asked  his  assistance  to  nip  the 
enterprise  in  the  bud.  No  sooner,  therefore,  was  the  legislature 
orijanized  than  the  orovernor  sent  them  a  secret  messasfc  con- 
tainins:  the  information  that  Graham  had  driven  him,  and  askinix 
their  co-operation  in  the  measure  required. 

Lewis  Cass,  elected  as  a  democrat,  instantly  sided  with  the 
president  against  Burr,  and  took  the  lead  in  the  measures  which 
resulted  in  the  seizure  of  the  boats,  the  arrest  of  Blenncrhassett 
and  his  friends,  the  desolation  of  his  island,  and  the  explosion 
of  the  whole  scheme.  It  was  Lewis  Cass,  too,  who  wrote  the 
congratulatory  and  patriotic  address  of  the  legislature  to  the 


548  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

president,  to  which  Mr.  Jefferson  replied  in  a  strain  highly 
complimentary  to  the  3'oung  member  who  had  penned  it. 

These  events  decided  his  career.  A  few  months  after,  Presi- 
dent Jefferson  appointed  to  the  United  States  marshalship  of 
Ohio  the  young  politician  who  had  aided  him  in  that  part  of  his 
administrative  policy  into  which  he  had  put  most  of  personal 
feeling.  The  marshalship  of  a  State  such  as  Ohio  then  was 
yielded  little  revenue,  but  it  gave  standing  and  influence,  and 
prepared  the  way  for  further  advancement. 

Would  readers  like  to  know  what  it  was  to  be  a  practising 
lawyer  in  a  border  State  half  a  century  ago?  General  Cass 
shall  tell  them  :  — 

"A  solemn  demeanor,"  he  wrote  in  1840,  "may  become  law- 
yers now ;  but  in  those  bygone  times,  when  the  judge  and  the 
lawyer  mounted  their  horses,  and  rode  one  or  two  hundred 
miles  to  a  court,  and  then  to  another,  and  another  yet,  and 
through  woods,  following  a  mere  bridle-path,  crossing  the  swoU 
leu  streams  upon  their  horses  while  swimming,  and  thrown 
together  at  uight  in  a  small  cabin,  the  laughing  philosopher  had 
more  disciples  than  the  crying  one.  I  have  certainly  been  in 
much  greater  peril  since,  but  with  respect  to  a  real  7ionplush 
(my  western  friends  will  understand  me),  the  crowning  incident 
of  my  life  was  upon  the  bank  of  the  Scioto  Salt  Creek,  suddenly 
raised  by  a  heavy  rain,  in  w^hich  1  had  been  unhorsed  by  the 
breaking  of  the  saddle-girths.  My  steed  was  a  bad  swimmer, 
who,  instead  of  advancing  after  losing  his  footing,  amused 
himself  by  sinking  to  the  bottom  and  then  leaping  with  his 
utmost  force ;  and  this  new  equestrian  feat  he  continued  till 
rider,  saddle,  saddle-bags,  and  blankets  were  thrown  into  the 
water,  and  the  animal  emerged  upon  one  side  of  the  creek,  and 
the  luckless  traveller  crawled  out  on  the  other  as  he  best  could, 
while  the  luggage  commenced  the  journey  for  New  Orleans.  It 
appears  to  me  that  a  more  dripping  spectacle  of  despair  was, 
never  exhibited  than  I  presented,  while  surveying,  many  miles 
from  a  house,  the  shipwreck  of  my  travelling  fortunes." 

In  this  wa}^  Ohio  lawyers  journeyed  to  the  court-houses  made 
of  logs,  "with  interstices,"  adds  General  Cass,  "wide  ^^nough  to 


LEWIS     CASS.  519 

nclmit  tho  pasScige  of  a  man,"  where  presided  judges  as  primitive 
and  rough  as  the  woods  in  which  tliey  lived. 

Tecumseh,  the  Indian  chief,  had  heen,  for  many  3'ears,  stirrui'T' 
up  the  tribes  west  of  the  mountains  to  rise  simultaneously  upon 
the  whites,  and  drive  them  back  over  the  Allci^hanies.  The 
war  broke  ont  in  1811.  The  people  of  Ohio  raised  three 
regiments  of  militia,  of  one  of  wdiich  the  popular  Lewis  Cass 
was  chosen  colonel,  and  by  the  time  this  force  was  ready  for  the 
field,  war  was  declared  w^ith  Great  Britain.  Colonel  Cass,  it  13 
said,  was  the  first  soldier  of  the  United  States  who  set  his  foot 
upon  the  soil  of  Canada  as  an  invader,  and  he  was  in  connnand 
of  the  first  party  who  fired  or  received  a  hostile  shot.  He  was 
soon  involved,  however,  in  Hull's  surrender,  and  returned  to 
the  United  States  a  prisoner  of  w^ar  on  parole.  Xo  man  in  the 
surrendered  army  was  more  indignant  than  he  at  the  conduct  of 
General  PIull,  and  it  was  his  testimony,  perhaps,  that  had  most 
weight  with  the  court-martial  that  condemned  the  general. 
Exchanged  in  1813,  Colonel  Cass  received  a  colonel's  commis- 
sion in  the  regular  army,  and  afterwards,  a  brigadier-general's, 
in  which  rank  he  took  part  in  the  battle  of  the  Thames.  AVhen 
the  war  closed  in  1815,  General  Cass  being  in  command  of  the 
garrison  at  Detroit,  he  was  appointed  governor  of  the  territory 
of  Michigan,  then  a  wilderness,  with  scarcely  a  white  settlement 
except  Detroit. 

Removing  his  family  from  Ohio  to  Detroit  in  the  summer  of 
1815,  he  beofan  his  residence  there  bv  an  act  wdiich  was  censured 
then  as  most  extravagent,  but  to  which  he  owed  his  subsequent 
wealth,  and  the  dignity  of  his  declining  years.  He  was  worth 
twelve  thousand  dollars  in  1815,  the  whole  of  which  he  invested 
m  the  purchase  of  a  tract  of  land  close  to  the  vilhige  of  Detroit, 
and  upon  part  of  which  the  thriving  city  of  Detroit  has  since 
been  built.  I  was  told  in  Detroit  that  this  tract  is  now  worth 
two  millions  of  dollars. 

Hew^as  Governor  of  Michigan  for  sixteen  years,  during  which 
time  he  was  a  kind  of  Frontier  King.  The  true  and  full  history 
of  this  part  of  his  life  would  be  one  of  the  most  curious  and 
fascinatinir  books  in  existence.  He  both  made  and  administered 
la'v.     He  ruled,  with  almost  sovereign  sway,  over  whites  and 


550  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGEAPHY. 

Indians.  He  negotiated  nineteen  treaties  with  Indian  tribes, 
and  bought  from  them  great  parts  of  Michigan,  Ohio,  Wiscon- 
sm,  and  Indiana.  Clad  in  a  hunting  shirt,  he  traversed  the 
woods  and  prairies  of  the  north-west,  sometimes  on  horseback, 
sometimes  in  a  birch-bark  canoe,  oftener  on  foot,  —  on  one 
occasion  travelling  four  thousand  miles  in  two  months. 

That  he  did  not  himself  become  a  savao^e  while  associatinsr  so 
much  with  savage  men  and  savage  nature,  was  shown,  toward 
the  close  of  this  part  of  his  life,  by  his  giving  the  results  of  his 
observations  of  the  Indians  in  two  extensive  articles  in  the 
"Xorth  American  Review."  I  have  just  read  these  articles. 
They  are  certainly  among  the  most  thorough  and  valuable  to  be 
foimcl  in  the  two  hundred  and  twelve  numbers  of  that  distin- 
guished periodical.  They  are  much  better  written  than  General 
Cass's  later  work  upon  France  and  Louis  Philippe.  One  would 
never  suppose,  upon  reading  them,  that  they  were  written  by  a 
man  who  had  lived  for  twenty-eight  years  or  more  on  the  dis- 
tant borders  of  civilization,  and  spent  half  his  time  in  governing 
wild  Indians. 

In  1831,  Governor  Cass  had  the  misfortune  to  be  called  away 
from  this  sphere  of  labor,  in  wdiich  he  had  gained  nothing  but 
honor,  to  one  for  which  he  was  far  less  fitted,  and  in  which  he 
could  not  hope  to  shine.  It  happened,  in  one  of  President 
Jackson's  numerous  cabinet  imbroglios,  that  he  was  suddenly  in 
want  of  a  secretary  of  war,  —  the  gentleman  for  whom  he  had 
intended  the  place  having  refused  it,  contrary  to  all  expectation. 
In  this  emergency  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  Governor  of  jNlichi- 
gan,  who  had  given  the  great  weight  of  his  authority  to  General 
Jackson's  policy  of  removing  the  Indians  west  of  the  Mississippi. 
The  governor  accepted  the  ofier  of  the  post,  and  midsummer 
saw  him  a  cabinet  minister. 

It  was  no  bed  of  roses.  He  did  not  agree  with  General 
Jackson  in  his  war  upon  the  United  States  Bank,  and  he  was 
much  perplexed  to  decide  whether  he  ought  to  resign  or  retain 
his  place.  General  Jackson,  to  whom  he  submitted  the  ques- 
tion, and  who  was  heartily  tired  of  cabinet-making,  said,  in 
effect : — 


LEWIS     CASS.  5.31 

"  Ob,  don't  think  of  resigning;  it  is  not  necessary.  Stay,  Ijy 
all  means." 

General  Cass  complied  Avitli  the  request,  and  wjis  rewarded  in 
1835  by  the  office  of  minister  to  France,  for  which  lie  had  the 
very  rare  qualification  of  speaking  French.  Detroit  was  a 
French  settlement,  and  to  this  day  several  of  the  principal 
families  there  are  of  French  origin,  so  that  General  Cass  not 
only  spoke  the  language  of  France,  but  felt  at  home  among 
French  people.  Louis  Philippe,  then  King  of  the  French,  had 
the  most  pleasing  and  vivid  recollections  of  his  extensive  travels 
in  America,  and  was  never  happier  than  ^vhen  relating  them. 
He  became  unusually  attached  to  General  Cass,  t(^ld  him  the 
whole  story  of  his  life,  and  listened,  in  turn,  to  the  hundred 
tales  of  frontier  adventure  with  which  the  ambassador's  memory 
was  charged.  General  Cass's  little  book,  entitled,  "France,  its 
King,  Court,  and  Government,"  is  chiefly  a  statement  of  facts 
derived  from  the  king's  own  lips.  It  is  a  very  rambling, 
irregular  production,  but  exceedingly  interesting,  —  more  so 
now  than  when  it  was  published  in  1840. 

Returning  home,  he  next  figures  as  senator  and  candidate  for 
the  presidency,  and  he  would  actually  have  been  president  ])ut 
for  John  Van  Buren,  who  organized  and  run  a  "Free-soil" 
party,  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  off  votes  enough  to  defeat 
Lim.  But  let  us  drop  a  veil  over  the  bad  politics  of  that  un- 
happy time.  Let  by-gones  he  by-gones.  Cass,  Buchanan,  Vau 
Buren,  Douglas,  and  others  who  flourished  then,  were  all  in  a 
false  position, —  their  real  feelings  pulling  them  one  way,  and  their 
party  ties  pulling  them  another.  Let  us  only  remember  of 
Lewis  Cass,  that  when  at  last  the  crisis  came,  and  he  had  to 
choose  "which  he  ^vould  do,  side  with  or  against  his  country',  he 
took  the  patriot's  part,  and  stood  by  the  flag  under  which  his 
father  fought.  May  we  never  again  have  such  politics  or  such 
politicians  as  we  had,  on  both  sides,  from  1830  to  1860.  It  was 
a  trial  too  severe  for  human  virtue,  and  we  ought  not  to  be  sur- 
prised that  human  virtue  so  often  yielded  under  it. 

General  Cass,  observing  the  ravages  made  by  strong  drink 
among  the  Indians,  and  desirous  to  add  to  the  force  of  his 
advice  the  power  of  his  example,  became  a  teetotaler  during 


552  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

his  governorship  of  Michigan,  and  never  again  resumed  the  use 
of  intoxicating  drinks.  He  preferred  plain  fare,  and  had  no 
vices.  To  these  causes,  and  to  his  constant  cheerfulness,  may 
be  attributed  the  soundness  and  vigor  of  his  old  age.  Almost 
to  the  last  he  enjoyed  life,  and  was  a  source  of  enjoyment  to 
others. 


SAMUEL    ADAMS.  553 


SAMUEL   ADAMS. 


When  John  Adams  arrived  in  France,  about  the  middle  of 
the  American  Kevokition,  he  heard  every  one  asking,  and  he 
was  sometimes  asked  himself:  ^- 

"Is  it  the  famous  Adams?" 

He  always  replied  :  — 

"No  ;  it  is  not  the  famous  Adams." 

The  polite  Frenchmen,  however,  insisted  that  he  was  too 
modest,  and  that  he  icas  the  famous  Adams.  The  Frenchmen 
were  wrong.  In  the  year  1777,  John  Adams  was  an  unknown 
man  in  Europe,  while  Samuel  Adams  had  received  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  publicly  exempted  from  pardon  by  the  British 
king,  when  pardon  had  been  offered  to  all  the  revolutionists 
excepting  himself  and  John  Hancock.  In  America,  too,  at 
that  time,  he  was  much  more  universally  known,  and  a  much 
more  powerful  person,  than  his  second  cousin,  who  was  after- 
wards President  of  the  United  States.  At  the  present  day, 
however,  while  almost  every  one  knows  something  of  John 
Adams,  comparatively  few  are  acquainted  with  the  far  superior 
merits  and  infinitely  greater  services  of  Samuel.  Indeed, 
amonsf  the  other  services  which  Samuel  Adams  rendered  his 
country,  one  was  his  introduction  to  the  public  service  of  his 
kinsman,  John. 

Samuel  Adams,  born  September  15th,  1722,  w^as  the  son  of 
Captain  Samuel  Adams,  a  Boston  brewer,  who  was  a  wnse  man 
and  a  irood  citizen.  Havinix  been  enriched  bv  his  trade,  Captain 
Adams  was  enabled  to  give  his  son  the  best  education  which  the 
colony  afforded.  At  that  time,  in  Massachusetts,  when  a  man 
sent  his  son  to  college,  he  generally  did  so  with  a  view  to  his 
entering  the  ministry;  and  this  was  the  case  wi/h  the  father  of 


554  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Samuel  Adams.  But  the  youth  having  been  drawn  away  from 
theology  by  the  superior  charms  of  politics,  he  disappointed  his 
father,  and  chose  another  career. 

While  he  was  in  college  the  events  occurred  which  first  drew 
his  attention  to  the  great  loss  and  inconvenience  which  the 
American  colonies  sufiered  from  their  connection  with  Great 
Britain. 

When  he  graduated,  the  subject  which  he  chose  for  his 
oration  was :  — 

"Whether  it  be  lawful  to  resist  the  supreme  magistrate,  if 
the  Commonwealth  cannot  be  otherwise  preserved?" 

He  maintained  that  it  was  lawful,  and  he  enforced  his  opinion 
with  something  of  the  boldness  of  later  years.  Upon  leaving 
college,  he  entered  the  counting-house  of  a  merchant ;  but  it 
soon  appeared  that  he  had  no  talent  for  business,  and  he  was 
continually  drawn  away  from  his  desk  by  the  keen  taste  he 
already  had  for  political  discussion.  Consequently,  he  soon 
abandoned  the  pursuit  chosen  for  him,  and  his  father  lent  him  a 
thousand  pounds  to  set  up  in  business  for  himself.  He  was  as 
unfortunate  in  promoting  his  own  fortunes  as  he  had  been  in- 
efficient in  the  afiairs  of  another.  He  trusted  a  friend  to  the 
value  of  one-half  his  capital,  and  this  friend,  soon  after,  meeting 
with  misfortunes,  he  never  demanded  the  debt.  Other  losses 
followed,  which  left  him  penniless.  He  now  joined  his  father 
in  the  management  of  the  brewery,  and  he  remained  thenceforth 
a  brewer  as  long  as  he  had  any  business  at  all.  The  great 
occupation  of  this  man's  life  was  politics,  and  he  devoted  him- 
self to  the  afiairs  of  the  public  with  far  more  zeal  and  energy 
than  men  usually  infuse  into  their  own  business.  We  havo 
never  had  in  America  a  more  consistent  and  hearty  republican 
than  he. 

"He  that  despises  his  neighbor's  happiness,"  wrote  he,  at  tho 
age  of  twenty-six,  "  because  he  wears  a  worsted  cap  or  leathern 
apron, — he  that  struts  immeasurably  above  the  lower  size  of 
people,  and  pretends  to  adjust  the  rights  of  men  by  the  dis- 
tinctions of  fortune,  is  not  over-loyal." 

From  this  remark,  the  reader  can  judge  something  of  the 
spirit  of  the  man,  and  in  that  spirit  he  lived  and  labored  from 


SAMUEL    ADAMS.  l)^^ 

fiis  twenty-first  to  Lis  eighty-second  year.  After  hokliug  such 
small  oflicos  as  selectman,  school-visitor,  and  tax-gatherer,  wo 
find  him  elected  a  member  of  the  Legislature  (jf  ^Massachusetts, 
to  "which  l;ody  he  was  annually  re-elected,  from  1705  to  tho 
lieriod  of  the  Revolution.  It  is  diflicult,  in  the  compass  of  a 
single  article,  to  convey  to  tho  reader's  mind  any  adequate  idea 
of  the  services  rendered  by  this  man  in  preparing  the  way  for  a 
successful  resistance  to  tho  tyranny  of  the  English  king.  Wc 
may  approximate  the  truth,  perhaps,  by  saying  that  he  was  to 
the  independence  of  his  country  what  AYendell  Phillips  has 
been,  in  these  recent  years,  to  the  abolition  o-f  slavery. 

Adams,  however,  was  not  an  orator  only.  The  weapon 
which  he  wielded  with  most  vigor  and  success  was  the  pen. 
Every  measure  of  aggression  elicited  a  vigorous  remonstrance 
in  the  public  press  from  his  indefatigable  hand.  lie  wrote  so 
much  in  the  newspapers,  during  the  fifteen  years  preceding  the 
Revolution,  that  his  collected  works  would  fill  many  large 
volumes,  and  his  biographer  gives  us  a  list  of  no  less  than 
twenty-five  names  employed  by  him  to  conceal  the  authorship 
of  his  productions.  He  not  only  wrote  himself,  but  whenever 
he  noticed  a  young  man  of  spirit  and  talent,  he  sought  him  out, 
infused  into  him  his  OAvn  fire,  and  urged  him  to  use  his  talents 
in  forming  public  opinion  against  the  aggressions  of  the  king. 
Three  of  his  pupils  are  still  illustrious  in  the  memory  of  their 
countrymen,  —  John  Adams,  John  Hancock,  and  Samuel  AVar- 
reu.  Whoever  faltered,  this  man  never  did.  He  said  once,  at 
a  period  of  reaction,  when  he  was  censured  for  his  persistency 
in  the  cause  :  — 

"I  am  in  fashion  and  out  of  fashion,  as  the  whim  goes.  I 
will  stand  alone.  I  will  oppose  this  tyranny  at  the  threshold, 
though  tho  fabric  of  liberty  fall,  and  I  perish  in  its  ruins ! " 

On  that  mcmoral)le  occasion,  in  1770,  when  the  people  of 
Boston  solemnly  determined  that  the  two  regiments  of  British 
troops  should  be  removed  from  tho  town,  Samuel  Adams  was 
their  spokesman.  The  acting  governor  of  the  colony  was  in 
the  Council  Chamber  with  twenty-eight  Councillors,  tlie  Senate 
of  the  Colony,  seated  at  the  board.  By  the  side  of  the  gover- 
nor was  the  lieutenant-colonel  in  command  of  the  royal  troopSi 


55{j  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Into  this  room  came  Samuel  Adams,  at  the  head  of  a  committee 
of  the  people  of  Boston,  who  communicated  to  the  governor 
the  unchangeable  resolution  of  the  citizens,  that  the  troops  must 
be  withdrawn. 

"  Nothing,"  said  he  to  the  governor,  "  will  satisfy  the  people 
but  the  total  and  immediate  removal  of  the  troops." 

The  governor  intimated  that  one  regiment  was  to  be  re- 
moved, and  then  said,  in  a  whining  tone  :  — 

"The  troops  are  not  subject  to  my  authority.  I  have  no 
power  to  remove  them." 

Then  Samuel  Adams,  with  fire  flashing  from  his  ej^es, 
stretched  forth  his  arm  and  said,  as  he  gazed  into  the  gover- 
nor's face :  — 

"  If  you  have  the  power  to  remove  one  regiment,  you  have 
the  power  to  remove  both.  It  is  at  your  peril  if  you  refuse. 
The  meeting  is  composed  of  three  thousand  people.  The}^  have 
become  impatient.  A  thousand  men  are  already  arrived  from 
the  neighborhood,  and  the  w^hole  country  is  in  motion.  Night 
is  approaching.  An  immediate  answer  is  expected.  Both 
regiments  or  none." 

The  hireling  tyrant  cowered  before  the  honest,  indignant 
citizen.  Samuel  Adams  said  afterwards:  "If  fancy  deceived 
me  not,  I  observed  his  knees  to  tremble.  I  thought  I  saw  his 
face  grow  pale  (and  I  enjoyed  the  sight)  at  the  appearance  of 
the  determined  citizens,  peremptorily  demanding  the  redress  of 
grievances."  He  had  the  pleasure  of  returning  to  the  meeting, 
and  informing  his  fellow-citizens  that  the  troops  should  bo 
removed  from  their  town  on  the  following  day.  Samuel 
Adams  was  the  man  who,  more  than  any  other,  induced 
America  to  refrain  from  importing  or  using  British  goods  until 
the  Stamp  Act  was  repealed.  He  was  the  man  chiefly  instru- 
mental in  causing  the  destruction  of  the  tea  in  Boston  harbor. 
Above  all,  he  w^as  the  originator  of  the  Congress  of  the  Colonies, 
which  met  at  Philadelphia.  It  w^as  he  also  who,  more  than  any 
other  man  in  Massachusetts,  created  the  public  opinion  which 
sustained  these  measures.  As  the  late  Edward  Everett  once 
remarked :  — 

"The   throne  of  his   ascendency  was  in  Faneuil  Hall.     Aa 


SAMUEL    ADAMS.  557 

eacli  new  measure  of  arbitrary  power  was  announcea  from 
across  the  Atlantic,  or  each  new  act  of  mciiaco  and  violence  on 
the  part  of  the  officers  of  the  government,  or  of  the  army, 
occurred  in  Boston,  its  citizens  —  oftentimes  in  astonishment 
and  perplexity  —  rallied  to  the  sound  of  his  voice  in  Faneuil 
Hall ;  and  there,  as  from  the  crowded  gallcr}-  or  the  ^loderator's 
chair,  he  animated,  enlightened,  fortified,  and  roused  the  ad- 
miring throng,  he  seemed  to  gather  them  together  beneath  tho 
aegis  of  his  indomitable  spirit,  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens 
under  her  winirs." 

'^  Why,"  asked  one  of  the  En^^lish  Tories  of  the  tor\'  irover- 
nor  of  Massachusetts,  —  "  why  hath  not  Mr.  x\dams  been  taken 
olf  from  his  opposition  by  an  office?" 

To  which  the  governor  replied  :  — 

"Such  is  the  obstinacy  and  inflexible  disposition  of  the  man, 
that  he  never  would  be  conciliated  by  any  office  whatever." 

This  "was  indeed  the  truth.  His  daucrhter,  who  loner  survived 
him,  and  with  whom  living  persons  have  conversed,  used  to  say 
that  her  father  once  refused  a  pension  from  the  British  govern- 
ment of  two  thousand  pounds  a  year.  Once,  when  a  secret 
messensrer  from  General  Gas^e  threatened  him  with  a  trial  for 
treason  if  he  persisted  in  his  opposition  to  the  government,  and 
promised  him  honors  and  wealth  if  he  would  desist,  Adams  rose 
to  his  feet,  and  gave  him  this  answer  :  — 

"Sir,  I  trust  I  have  long  since  made  my  peace  with  the  King 
of  kings.  No  personal  consideration  shall  induce  me  to  abandon 
the  righteous  cause  of  my  country.  Tell  Governor  Gage  it  is 
the  advice  of  Samuel  Adams  to  him  no  lonofcr  to  insult  the 
feelings  of  an  exasperated  people." 

At  that  time  the  whole  property  of  this  illustrious  patriot  was 
the  house  in  which  he  lived,  and  a  little  land  about  it,  and  his 
whole  income  was  ninety  pounds  a  year,  which  was  the  amount 
of  his  salary  as  clerk  to  the  Assembly. 

When  he  had  wrought  up  the  people  to  the  point  of  sending 
representatives  to  a  general  congress,  he  himself  was  one  of  its 
members,  and  he  continued  to  serve  his  country  during  the 
Revolution  with  all  the  zeal  and  energy  which  had  marked  his 
conduct  in  his  native  State.     When  the  war  was  done,  and  his 


558  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY.  , 

country  was  free,  he  went  home  to  Boston  and  had  not  a  placo 
to  lay  his  head.  His  house  had  been  ravaged  and  phindercd  by 
the  British  troops,  and  it  was  with  very  great  difficulty  that  he 
gathered  together  the  requisite  articles  of  household  furniture. 
Sometime  after,  however,  the  premature  death  of  his  son.  Dr. 
Adams,  put  him  in  possession  of  a  competent  estate. 

During  the  last  years  of  his  life,  when  the  conflict  raged 
between  the  Federalists  and  Republicans,  he  espoused  the 
Republican  side,  which  exposed  him  to  so  much  obloquy,  that  it 
was  with  great  difficulty  that  he  was  elected  to  so  unimportant 
an  office  as  lieutenant-governor  of  the  State.  Finally,  he  was 
elected  to  the  governorship,  and  even  received  a  few  votes  in 
1796  for  the  presidency.  When  Mr.  Jefferson  came  into 
power,  in  1801,  that  great  man  wrote  a  most  beautiful  and 
touching  letter  to  the  Republican  patriarch,  recognizing  his 
great  services,  and  assuring  him  that  the  chief  of  the  Democratic 
party  was  fully  alive  to  their  value. 

He  died  in  October,  1803,  aged  eighty-two  years.  Party 
spirit  ran  so  high  in  Boston  at  that  time,  and  the  Republicans 
were  so  odious,  that  it  was  with  considerable  difficulty  that  his 
friends  could  induce  the  authorities  of  the  State  to  pay  to  his 
remains  the  funeral  honors  usually  accorded  to  those  who  have 
held  high  office.  Boston,  a  city  which  many  persons  suppose 
to  be  dangerously  infected  with  what  are  called  "radical  ideas," 
is,  in  reality,  one  of  the  most  "  conservative "  communities  in 
the  world.  In  fact,  all  communities  are  conservative.  It  is 
only  individuals  who  are  radical,  although  sometimes,  for  short 
periods,  great  men  of  that  stamp  rule  the  communities  to  which 
they  belong,  and  in  which  they  are  generally  hated  or  feared. 


WHAT  IS  KNOWN  OF  SHAKESPEARE.    559 


WHAT   IS   KNOWN    OF   SHAKESPEARE. 


The  catalogue  of  works  about  Shakespeare  in  the  British 
Museum  consists,  I  am  tokl,  of  four  folio  volumes.  The  mere 
catalogue !  We  have,  in  this  city,  several  collectors  of  Shake- 
spearian literature,  one  of  whom  has  got  together  a  whole  room 
full  of  books,  numbering,  perhaps,  two  thousand  volumes,  all 
of  which  relate,  in  some  way,  to  Shakespeare.  Neverth':;less, 
the  substance  of  what  we  really  know  of  the  man  and  his  life 
can  be  stated  in  one  of  these  short  articles. 

In  the  first  place,  how  did  he  spell  his  name  ?  When  he  ^Tote 
it,  he  spelt  it  in  various  ways ;  but  when  he  had  it  pri?ited  he 
spelt  it  Shake-speare,  or  Shakespeare,  and  so  did  his  intimate 
friend,  Ben  Jonson.  In  his  own  day,  the  name  was  spelt  in 
thirty-three  different  ways  :  Shaxpur,  Scliakespeyr,  Chacksper, 
Shakaspeare,  Schakespeire,  etc.  At  present,  the  name  is  al- 
most universally  spelt  Shakspeare,  but  certainly  it  were  far 
more  proper  to  spell  it  as  the  poet  printed  it  —  Shakespeare. 
It  is  very  difficult,  however,  to  change  an  established  mode  of 
spelling  a  familiar  name,  and  probably  we  shall  go  on  omitting 
the  middle  letter  to  the  end  of  time. 

The  father  of  the  poet  was  John  Shakespeare,  a  man  in  mid- 
dle life,  who  could  not  write  his  own  name,  —  the  son  of  a  far- 
mer named  Richard  Shakespeare,  and  probably  the  descendant 
of  a  long  line  of  tillers  of  the  soil.  The  poet's  mother  was 
Mary  Arden,  the  youngest  of  a  family  of  seven  girls,  the  daugh- 
ters of  a  man  of  ancient  family.  She  inherited  from  her  father 
a  farm  of  fifty  or  sixty  acres,  and  a  sum  of  money  equal,  in  our 
present  currency,  to  about  three  hundred  dollars,  which,  with 
her  heart  and  hand,  she  gave  to  John  Shakespeare  about  a  yeai 
after  her  father's  death.     It  is  fair  to  infer,  from  John  Shake 


560  PEOPLE'S      BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

speare's  marrying  the  daughter  of  a  "gentleman"  (his  own 
father's  landlord),  that  he  was  a  young  man  of  more  than  ordi- 
nary spirit  and  endowments. 

At  the  time  of  his  marriage,  John  Shakespeare  was  a  glove- 
maker  in  the  town  of  Stratford-upon-Avon ;  but  he  also  had 
something  to  do  with  farming,  —  perhaps  rented  a  piece  of  land 
in  the  neighborhood,  or  bought  standing  crops  on  speculation, 
as  our  village  store-keepers  often  do.  He  was  a  prosperous 
man  of  considerable  substance,  which  he  increased  prett}^^  rapid- 
ly for  those  times.  He  evidently  stood  well  with  his  townsmen, 
since  he  w^as  intrusted  by  them  with  several  offices  of  some 
importance.  His  first  office,  which  was  conferred  upon  him 
when  he  had  been  married  a  year,  was  that  of  ale-taster.  A 
year  after,  he  was  elected  one  of  the  fourteen  burgesses  of  the 
town.  In  the  following  3'ear,  we  find  him  constable ;  soon 
after,  a  magistrate,  and  then  chamberlain.  It  is  conjectured 
that  he  was  about  thirty  years  of  age  when  he  held  this  last 
office,  which  w^as  one  of  considerable  dignity  and  responsibility. 

To  this  thriving  young  man  two  daughters  were  born,  both 
of  whom  died  in  infancy,  leaving  him  childless.  Then  was  born 
William,  the  poet.  There  is  no  existing  record  of  his  birth, 
and  therefore  the  date  of  that  event  is  unknown ;  but  we  know 
that  he  was  christened  on  the  26th  of  April,  1564 ;  and  as  it 
was  customary  then  to  christen  children  three  days  after  their 
birth,  it  is  safe  to  conjecture  that  he  was  born  April  23d,  and 
that  is  the  day  on  which  his  birthday  is  usually  celebrated. 

John  Shalvcspeare  still  rose  in  the  social  scale.  During  the 
childhood  of  his  son,  he  was  high  bailifi",  justice  of  the  peace, 
alderman,  and  mayor.  His  wealth  increased,  too,  and  the  priv- 
ilege was  conferred  upon  him  of  bearing  a  coat  of  arms.  Tlie 
house  in  which  the  poet  passed  his  early  years  was  a  pleasant 
and  commodious  one  for  that  clay,  and  there  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  that  he  had  everything  needful  for  his  comfort  and  enjoy- 
ment. In  all  probability  he  was  a  happy  member  of  a  happy 
household.  When  the  boy  was  ten  years  old  his  father  was 
certainly  among  the  very  first  citizens  of  a  substantial  and  im- 
portant country  town  of  fifteen  hundred  inhabitants. 

There  was   in  Stratford  an  ancient  grammar  school,  where 


WHAT  IS  KNOWN  OF  SHAKESPEARE.    501 

Latin  and  Greek  were  tanght ;  and  taught  (as  I  guess)  in  the 
ancient  dull  way  ;  for  this  school  Shakespeare  attended  from 
about  his  seventh  to  his  fourteenth  year,  and  he  speaks  in  his 
plays,  of  boys  creeping  "unwillingly  to  school,"  and  of  their 
going  from  school  with  alacri.y.  There  arc  thirteen  passa<^'-es 
in  the  works  of  Shakespeare  expressive  of  the  tedium  and  dis- 
gust which  boys  used  to  endure  in  the  barbarous  schools  of  the 
olden  time ;  whereas,  there  is  not  one  which  alludes  to  school  as 
a  pleasant  place.  We  are  justitied  in  inferring,  from  these 
facts,  that  this  boy  found  it  dull  work  going  to  Stratford  gram- 
mar school. 

At  Stratford  there  w^as  a  charnel-house,  containinir  an  im- 
mense  collection  of  human  bones,  with  an  opening  through  which 
they  could  be  seen.  The  description  given,  in  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  of  the  vault  wherein  Juliet  was  buried,  was   sujrirested 

'  CO 

by  this  charnel-house. 

Many  of  the  names  of  Shakespeare's  characters  were  common 
in  Stratford  in  Shakespeare's  time,  as  the  following  ;  Bardolf, 
riuellen,  Peto,  Sly,  Heme,  Page,  Ford. 

Of  all  the  discoveries  which  modern  research  has  made  re- 
specting the  early  life  of  Shakespeare,  the  most  important  is 
the  one  now  to  be  mentioned  :  During  his  boyhood  and  youth 
he  saw  plays  performed  by,  at  least,  twelve  different  companies 
of  actors  !  How  could  this  be  in  a  remote  country  town,  where 
there  was  no  theatre?  Turn  to  the  play  of  Hamlet,  Act  II., 
Scene  2,  and  you  will  see.  Hamlet  and  his  friends  are  talking 
together  in  the  king's  castle,  when  a  trumpet  is  heard  without, 
which  announces  the  approach  of  a  company  of  strolling  i^lay- 
ers.  Hamlet  receives  them  kindl}^,  orders  a  play  of  them,  causes 
them  to  be  well  lodged  and  entertained  in  the  castle  as  long  as 
they  remained.  In  writing  that  scene,  Shakespeare  was  re- 
cording, in  part,  his  recollections  of  what  used  to  occur  in 
Stratford  when  his  father  was  mayor,  or  alderman.  About  once 
a  year  a  company  of  actors  came  riding  into  the  town  ("then 
came  each  actor  on  his  ass") ,  and  made  their  way  to  the  mayor, 
of  whom  they  asked  the  privilege  of  performing  in  the  place. 
If  permission  was  accorded,  part  of  the  expense  of  the  enter- 
tainment was  borne  by  the  tc  wn  treasury,  and  only  a  very  small 

3G 


562  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

charge  was  made  for  admission.  The  records  of  Stratford  show 
that  from  the  time  William  Shakespeare  was  six  years  of  age  to 
the  time  he  ^vas  eighteen,  twelve  companies  performed  in  the 
town.  They  also  show  that  the  largest  sum  ever  paid  to  a  com- 
pany was  paid  during  the  mayoralty  of  John  Shakespeare.  The 
sums  paid  under  other  mayors  ranged  from  three  shillings  to 
seventeen  shillings ;  but  when  John  Shakespeare  was  mayor 
the  town  book-keeper  had  to  make  the  following  magnificent 
entr}^ :  — 

"Item,  payed  to  the  queene's  pleyers,  9  pounds." 

"VYe  may  infer  from  these  facts,  1st,  that  John  Shakespeare 
was  particularly  fond  of  the  drama ;  2d,  that  William  Shake- 
speare, inheriting  this  taste,  had  abundant  opportunities  of  grat- 
ifying it,  and  of  becoming  acquainted  personally  w^ith  actors. 

When  the  boy  was  fourteen  years  of  age  and  was  still  going 
to  school,  his  father's  affairs  became  disordered.  The  probabili- 
ty is  that  he  had  lived  too  liberally.  He  had  eight  children  in 
all,  of  Avhom  five  lived  to  maturity,  and  he  was  a  man  to  be 
bountiful  to  his  children.  Moreover,  the  many  offices  which  he 
had  filled  may  have  taken  too  much  of  his  time  from  private 
business.  And  I  have  sometimes  thouo^ht  that  the  caution  which 
the  poet  is  known  to  have  practised  in  lending  money  may  have 
been  owing  to  his  father  having  lost  his  property  by  an  exces- 
sive trust  in  others.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  cause  or 
causes  of  his  misfortunes,  he  became  so  much  involved  as  to  be 
in  constant  fear  of  arrest  for  debt ;  and,  finally,  he  was  arrested 
and  thrown  into  prison.  He  w^as  a  poor  man  thenceforth  for 
some  years ;  until,  in  fact,  he  began  to  receive  assistance  from 
his  thriving  son,  William. 

In  consequence  of  these  embarrassments,  AYilliam  Shake 
speare  at  the  age  of  fourteen  was  taken  from  school  to  assist 
his  father  in  his  various  operations,  such  as  farming,  dealing  in 
wool,  in  animals,  and  other  products  of  a  grazing  country.  It 
is  possible,  and  almost  probable,  that  he  assisted  his  father  ia 
killin<]f  and  sellinoj  beef. 

Now  we  come  to  the  great  calamity  of  Shakespeare's  life. 
One  of  his  father's  friends  w^as  Hichard  Hathaway,  a  substantial 
farmer  near  Stratford,  who  had  a  daughter,  Anne,  eight  years 


WHAT    IS    KNOWN    OF    S  II  AK  E  S  P  E  AKE  .  5G3 

older  than  Shakespeare.  AVhen  he  ^vas  a  l)oy  of  eighteen,  and 
she  a  woman  of  twenty-six,  they  were  married  ;  and  five  months 
after,  their  first  child  was  born.  No  one  who  has  much  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature  needs  any  evidence  that  such  a  marriage 
w^as  a  ceaseless  misery  and  shame  to  him  as  long  as  he  lived. 
The  many  passages  of  his  works  in  which  unfavora])le  views  arc 
given  of  the  female  character,  reveal  the  melancholy  truth. 
The  ill-starred  couple  had  three  children,  Susanna,  Ilanmet, 
and  Judith,  all  of  wdiom  w^ere  born  before  the  father  was  twenty- 
one, —  the  two  last-named  being  twins. 

Here  was  a  bad  situation  for  a  young  man  to  be  in  upon  com- 
ing of  age  :  his  father  ruined  ;  four  brothers  and  sisters  younger 
than  himself ;  a  wufe  and  three  children  upon  his  hands;  his 
wife's  father  dead ;  and  no  opening  for  him  in  his  native  town, 
where  once  his  family  had  held  their  heads  so  high. 

There  were  in  London  then  five  individuals  who  had  gone  as 
poor  young  men  from  Shakespeare's  own  county  to  the  metrop- 
olis, and  there  risen  to  some  distinction  as  actors  ;  one  of  whom, 
and  he  the  most  successiful  of  them  all,  was  from  Stratford 
itself.  How  natural,  then,  that  in  such  circumstances  the  un- 
happy husband  should  look  toward  London  and  the  stage  for 
deliverance  at  once  from  domestic  broils  and  pecuniary  trou- 
bles !  The  story  of  his  getting  into  a  scrape  b}'  stealing  deer 
may  be  true,  or  may  not ;  but  surely  this  young  man  had  reasons 
enough  to  fly,  without  reckoning  the  displeasure  of  a  country 
squire.     Charles  Keade  says  on  this  point :  — 

"  He  was  not  driven  out  of  Stratford  by  misconduct,  or  he 
could  not  have  returned  to  the  town  in  1592.  He  suffered  no 
personal  indignities  from  Justice  Lacy,  for  all  such  matters  are 
recorded  at  Stratford,  and  there  is  no  trace  of  it.  I  notice,  too, 
that  when  a  man  leaves  a  place  where  he  has  been  degraded,  his 
heart  leaves  it.  Shakespeare's  heart  can  be  proved  never  to 
have  left  Stratford  for  a  single  day." 

Mr.  Reade  is,  perhaps,  a  little  too  positive  in  this  passage,  as 
is  the  custom  of  that  brilliant  author.  No  matter.  Shake- 
speare, w^hen  he  was  about  twenty-two  years  of  age,  went  lo 
London,  and  obtained  an  humble  place  in  a  company  of  players. 
From  acting  he  advanced  to  tinkering  and  adapting  old  plays. 


564  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

and  from  that  to  writing  plays  of  bis  own,  which  are  now  uni- 
versally recognized  as  the  greatest  productions  of  human  genius. 
His  authorship  enabled  him  to  buy  shares  in  the  theatre,  and  he 
was  very  soon  a  prosperous  man,  able,  when  he  went  home  to 
see  his  children,  his  father,  his  brothers  and  sisters,  to  take 
with  him  something  substantial  for  their  comfort.  lie  never 
removed  his  family  to  London,  but  visited  them  frequently,  and 
invested  money  in  Stratford,  when  he  had  any  to  spare  from  his 
business  as  manas^er  of  a  theatre. 

In  ten  years  after  leaving  home  he  bought  one  of  the  hand- 
somest houses  in  Stratford  for  the  residence  of  his  family,  and 
was  decidedly  the  most  distinguished  literary  man  of  Great 
Britain.  His  great  plays  attracted  immense  multitudes  of  spec- 
tators and  excited  unbounded  enthusiasm.  Many  passages 
could  be  quoted  (I  have  them  now  before  me)  from  writers  of 
his  own  time,  in  which  Shakespeare  is  ranked  with  the  greatest 
dramatists  of  Greece,  Rome,  and  France.  Those  who  think 
that  this  poet  was  not  keenly  appreciated  and  bountifully  re- 
warded in  his  own  day  are  utterly  mistaken.  Fame  and  wealth 
were  his  to  his  heart's  desire.  Among  other  tributes  to  his 
genius  was  one  from  a  rogue  who  impudently  put  the  name 
of  Shakespeare  upon  the  title-page  of  a  book  to  make  it  sell. 

When  he  had  been  sixteen  years  in  London,  he  ceased  to  act. 
This  was  in  1603.  In  1607  his  eldest  daughter,  Susanna,  was 
married  to  a  physician.  Dr.  John  Hall,  of  Stratford,  and  in  the 
same  year  Edmund  Shakespeare,  a  brother  of  the  poet,  and  an 
obscure  actor  in  his  theatre,  died  in  London. 

Shakespeare  lived  in  the  metropolis,  as  actor,  dramatist,  and 
manager,  for  twenty-four  years,  and  then  retired  to  his  native 
town  upon  an  income  equal,  in  our  present  currency,  to  twelve 
thousand  dollars  per  annum.  That  is  to  say,  his  income  was 
about  four  hundred  and  ten  pounds  per  annum,  which  is  equal  to 
two  thousand  pounds  in  money  of  the  present  time,  which  is  equal 
to  more  than  twelve  thousand  dollars  in  greenbacks.  After  set- 
tling in  Stratford  he  wrote  three  plays,  of  which  one  was  the  sub- 
lime and  pleasing  Tempest.  His  parents  and  his  son  were  dead, 
and  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  from  his  twenty-first  yo.ar 
he  had  never  been  a  husband  to  his  wife,  and  really  had  no  home. 


WHAT    IS    KNOWN    OF    S  II AK  E  SP  E  All  E.  5(j5 

He  died  suddenly  in  IGIG,  aged  lifty-two,  leaving  his  wife 
and  two  married  daughters.  Both  of  his  daughters  had  chil- 
dren, and  one  of  them  a  grandchild ;  but  before  the  close  of 
the  century  the  family  had  become  extinct.  He  had  no  heir, 
either  to  his  estate  or  to  his  genius.  He  was,  in  all  prol)a]/ility, 
the  first  of  his  family  who  ever  knew  how  to  write,  and  he  car- 
ried the  art  of  w^'iting  to  a  point  which  no  man,  in  all  the  future 
of  the  human  race,  will  ever  be  likely  to  surpass. 

Because  a  man  is  a  very  great  poet  or  artist  is  not  a  reason 
for  supposing  that  he  is  a  great  man.  On  the  contrary,  a  per- 
son may  have  the  most  w^onderful  talents,  and  yet  be  an  exceed- 
ingly inferior  human  being,  —  mean,  grasping,  sensual,  and 
false.  We  do  not  know  enough  of  the  man,  William  Shake- 
speare, to  judge  of  his  character  with  certainty,  though  I  think 
the  little  we  do  know  indicates  that  he  had  his  share  of  human 
infirmity.  But  when  we  come  to  consider  him  as  an  artist  and 
poet,  we  feel  that  it  is  presumption  even  to  praise  him  ;  and,  for 
my  part,  I  consider  that  I  am  more  indebted  to  him  than  to  any 
other  creature  that  ever  trod  this  earth. 


FyQQ  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 


THE   WIFE    OF   THOMAS   JEFFERSON 


Tno:viAS  Jefferson,  like  General  Washington,  mairied  a 
widow  and  an  heiress,  and  gained  by  his  marriage  a  considerable 
increase  to  his  social  importance. 

Mrs.  Martha  Skelton,  the  daughter  of  an  eminent  Virginia 
lawyer,  was  left  a  w^idow  m  her  nineteenth  year,  and  inherited 
from  her  husband  considerable  property.  She  was  a  lady  of 
extraordinary  beauty,  both  in  form  and  face,  and  was  a  woman 
singularly  competent  both  to  adorn  and  govern  a  household.  A 
little  above  the  medium  stature,  she  was  slightly  but  beautifully 
formed ;  her  complexion  was  fair ;  her  eyes  large,  dark,  and 
expressive ;  and  her  abundant  hair  was  of  the  most  admired 
tinge  of  auburn.  Like  all  the  ladies  of  her  time  and  countrj^ 
she  was  an  accomplished  rider  on  horseback.  She  also  played, 
danced,  and  sung  with  more  than  usual  taste  and  effect.  At  the 
same  time,  she  had  literary  tastes,  conversed  w^ell,  and  had  a 
warm,  affectionate  disposition.  Some  of  her  household  account- 
books,  which  are  still  in  existence,  show"  that  she  had  a  neat 
handwriting,  and  kept  accounts  with  accuracy. 

A  young  and  beautiful  widow,  residing  in  the  mansion  of  a 
wealthy  father,  and  possessing  such  varied  and  useful  accom- 
plishments, is  not  likely  to  pine  for  lack  of  wooers.  Young 
lovers  and  old  frequented  her  father's  house,  and  sought  her 
hand,  during  the  four  years  of  her  widowhood.  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson was  one  of  them.  He  was  a  lawyer  at  that  time,  in  large 
practice,  who  had  inherited  from  his  father  an  estate  of  nineteen 
hundred  acres  of  land  and  about  thirty  negroes.  When  first  he 
came  to  woo  this  lovely  widow,  he  was  twenty-eight  years  of 
age,  —  a  tall,  slender,  and  muscular  man,  of  rudd}"  complexion, 
reddish  gray  hair,  and  bright  gray  eyes.     Without  being  hand- 


THE    WIFE     OF    THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  567 

some,  he  was  graceful  and  vigorous  in  liis  carriage,  and  there 
was  that  in  his  countenance  Avhich  denoted  an  intelligent  and 
friendly  nature.  Considering  his  wealth,  his  higlr  rank  in  his 
profession,  his  excellent  character,  and  his  agreeable  appearance, 
he  was  a  match  not  to  be  despised. 

Mrs.  iNIartha  Skelton  was  evidently  of  this  o[)inion  ;  for, 
among  all  her  lovers,  he  was  the  favored  swain.  The  story 
goes,  that  two  of  his  rivals  arrived  at  the  same  mtjuient  at  the 
widow's  house,  and  were  shown  into  a  room  together.  It  hap- 
pened that,  at  that  moment,  Mr.  Jeflerson  and  ]\Irs.  Skelton 
were  singing  and  playing  together,  their  voices  being  accom- 
panied by  her  harpsichord  and  his  violin.  The  song  was  a 
tender  and  plaintive  melody,  and  they  performed  it  as  two 
lovers  might  be  expected  to  execute  a  piece  of  music  which 
enabled  them  to  express  their  feelings  to  one  another.  Tlie 
rivals  listened  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  retired,  to  return  no 
more  on  the  same  errand.  They  were  correct  in  their  inter- 
pretation of  the  performance,  and,  soon  after,  the  marriage  took 
place. 

The  wedding  was  celebrated  on  the  grand  and  liberal  scale 
of  the  olden  time.  Two  clergymen  officiated.  Fiddlers  were 
sent  for  from  afar,  and  the  tables  were  spread  for  scores  of 
guests.  The  wedding  breakfast  over,  the  happy  pair,  in  a 
modest  carriage  driven  by  two  horses,  set  out  for  Monticello, 
the  husband's  home.  There  was  some  snow  upon  the  ground 
when  they  left  the  mansion  of  the  bride,  and,  as  the}'  advanced 
up  the  slopes  of  the  Blue  R-idge,  the  snow  rapidly  increased  in 
depth,  until  they  were  obliged  to  leave  the  carriage  and  proceed 
on  horseback.  At  sunset  they  reached  the  seat  of  one  of  their 
neighbors,  which  was  eight  miles  from  Monticello,  —  the  road  to 
which  was  a  rough  mountain  track,  upon  which  the  snow  lay  to 
the  depth  of  two  feet.  Late  at  night,  exhausted  with  their  long 
journey,  and  penetrated  with  the  cold,  they  reached  the  house, 
to  find  the  fires  all  out,  and  the  servants  all  gone  to  their  own 
cabins  for  the  night.  Not  a  light  was  burning ;  not  a  spark  of 
fire  was  left ;  not  a  morsel  of  food  could  be  found ;  and  not  a 
creature  was  iu  the  house.    This  was  a  sorry  welcome  to  a  bride 


568  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

and  bridegroom ;  but  they  were  young  and  merry,  and  made  a 
jest  of  it. 

Mr.  Jefferson  struck  a  light,  took  the  horses  to  the  stable,  and 
duly  attended  to  their  wants,  and,  returning  to  the  house, 
groped  about  again  for  something  to  eat  or  drink.  On  a  shelf 
behind  some  books  he  was  lucky  enough  to  discover  half  a 
bottle  of  wine,  and  this  Avas  their  only  supper.  The  house  to 
which  Mr.  Jefferson  brought  his  bride  was  not  the  spacious  and 
elegant  mansion  which  he  afterwards  inhabited,  and  which  the 
reader  knows  by  the  name  of  "Monticello."  On  the  contrary, 
it  was  not  larger  nor  handsomer  than  the  porter's  lodge  of  many 
modern  residences.  They  contrived,  however,  to  be  as  happy 
in  it  as  any  couple  in  Virginia. 

A  year  after  the  marriage,  Mrs.  Jefferson's  father  died,  leav- 
ing her  forty  thousand  acres  of  land,  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  slaves,  and  several  large  debts.  Her  husband  immediately 
sold  as  much  of  the  land  and  negroes  as  sufficed  to  pay  the 
debts,  and,  after  this  reduction,  his  wife's  fortune  and  his  own 
inherited  estate  were  about  equal  in  value. 

The  life  of  a  planter's  wife  in  old  Virginia  was  one  of  great 
labor  and  incessant  anxiety.  Upon  her  devolved  much  of  the 
care  of  the  slaves,  whose  ignorance  made  them  little  more  com- 
petent to  take  care  of  themselves  than  if  they  had  been  so  many 
children.  It  was  the  wife  of  the  proprietor  who  superintended 
the  making  of  the  clothes  of  all  this  large  family,  and  it  was  she 
to  whom  they  always  ran  when  the}^  were  in  trouble,  or  when 
there  was  sickness  in  any  of  their  cabins.  It  was  she  who 
administered  the  medicine,  took  care  of  the  lying-in  women, 
and  provided  garments  and  other  necessaries  for  the  infiints. 
She  was  liable  to  be  called  up  in  the  night  and  to  be  summoned 
from  her  company  by  day ;  so  that,  if  she  was  a  good  and 
faithful  woman,  she  was  often  more  a  slave  than  any  slave  on 
the  estate.  This  was  much  the  case  with  Mrs.  Jefferson,  and 
no  doubt  the  fatigue  of  her  position  had  much  to  do  with  the 
early  failure  of  her  health.  Besides  this,  she  had  children 
rapidly,  and  her  constitution  was  not  originally  strong. 

Her  married  life,  brief  as  it  was,  and  checkered  with  many 
griefs,  was  peculiarly  happy.    Her  husband  was  devoted  to  her. 


TnE    WIFE    OF    THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  5G0 

and  he  was  a  man  formed  to  make  happy  those  with  whom  ho 
lived.  The  cheerful  notes  of  his  violin,  his  agreeable  conversa- 
tion, and  his  winning  manners,  rendered  the  evenings  at  Monti- 
cello  dehi^htfiil  indeed. 

Nine  years  rolled  away  ;  during  which  children  had  been  ])orn 
and  children  had  died.  In  1781,  when  Thomas  JeiTerson  was 
Governor  of  Virginia,  Lord  Cornwallis  and  the  British  army,  on 
their  way  to  Yorktown,  went  ravaging  through  the  State.  One 
of  the  officers  serving  under  Cornwallis  was  Colonel  Tarlton, — 
the  enterprising  and  dashing  cavalry  officer  of  whom  we  have 
heard  so  much.  Tarlton  had  determined  to  capture  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Virginia  in  his  own  house,  and,  for  this  purpose,  de- 
spatched a  troop  of  cavalry  toward  Monticello. 

Mr.  Jefferson  had  some  friends  to  dinner  that  day,  and,  while 
he  was  at  the  table,  he  received  from  a  trusty  friend  an  intima- 
tion of  Tarlton's  design.  He  said  nothing ;  but,  as  soon  as  his 
guests  were  gone,  he  told  his  wife  the  news,  directed  her  to 
prepare  herself  and  her  children  for  a  journey,  while  he  himself 
packed  up  his  most  important  papers.  When  they  had  been 
thus  employed  for  about  two  hours,  a  neighbor  rode  swiftly  to 
the  house  with  the  startling  intelligence  that  Tarlton's  troopers 
were  then  ascending  the  mountain  upon  the  summit  of  which 
Monticello  stands.  The  governor  hurried  his  wife  and  children 
into  a  carriage,  and  sent  them  off  to  the  seat  of  a  neighbor, 
fourteen  miles  distant,  under  the  charge  of  a  young  gentleman 
who  was  studying  law  in  his  office.  Then,  having  ordered  his 
own  horse,  he  resumed  his  packing  for  a  few  minutes,  and  when 
he  had  secured  the  most  valual)le  papers,  he  left  the  house  and 
proceeded  to  a  distant  spot  on  the  estate,  where  he  had  ordered 
the  horse  to  be  in  waiting.  Ascending  a  high  rock,  from  which 
he  obtained  a  good  view  of  Charlottesville,  the  nearest  town,  he 
saw  no  signs  of  troops,  and  no  appearance  of  alarm  in  the 
streets.  Thinking  the  alarm  premature,  he  concluded  to  return 
to  his  house  and  complete  the  rescue  of  his  papers;  but,  return- 
ing to  the  rock,  after  having  walked  away  but  a  few  steps,  he 
saw  the  town  all  alive  with  dra2:oons.  Then  he  mounted  his 
horse,  and  dashed  away  after  the  carriage  containing  his  family. 
At  the  very  moment  when  he  discovered  the  troops  at  Charlottes 


570  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGEAPHY. 

ville,  the  Ccaptain  of  the  company  sent  to  capture  him  entered 
the  drawinij-room  of  Monticelio.  If  the  governor  had  remained 
in  his  house  five  minutes  longer  than  he  did,  he  would  have 
been  taken  prisoner.  As  it  was,  however,  he  and  his  family 
arrived  safely  at  the  neighbor's  seat  to  which  we  have  alluded. 

The  house  and  its  contents  were  respected  by  the  enemy ; 
nothing  was  taken  except  a  few  bottles  of  wine  from  the  cellar. 
When  the  enemy  approached,  two  faithful  slaves  were  hard  at 
work  secreting  plate  under  the  planks  of  the  front  portico. 
One  of  these  men  had  the  plank  raised,  and  was  handing  down 
an  article  to  another  negro,  who  was  under  the  portico,  when 
they  heard  the  clang  of  hoofs.  The  plank  was  let  fall,  shutting 
the  man  in  a  dark  hole,  and  there  he  remained  until  the  British 
left,  a  period  of  eighteen  hours,  without  light  or  food.  The 
other  of  these  men  was  ordered  to  tell  which  way  his  master  had 
fled,  and  was  threatened  with  instaut  death  unless  he  told. 

"Fire  away,  then,"  said  the  slave,  without  retiring  a  step  from 
the  pistol  aimed  at  his  heart. 

If  the  house  was  respected,  the  plantation  was  not.  All  the 
growing  crops  of  corn  and  tobacco,  all  the  barns  and  stables,  all 
the  cattle,  sheep,  hogs,  and  horses,  all  the  fences,  as  well  as 
thirty  slaves,  were  either  destroyed  or  carried  off.  Nine  valuable 
mares  were  driven  away,  and  their  colts  killed ;  and  the  slaves 
were  taken  to  a  camp  where  the  small-pox  was  raging,  of  which 
all  but  three  died.  In  short,  the  whole  estate,  except  the  man- 
sion-house, was  laid  waste. 

These  events  were  the  immediate  cause  of  the  early  death  of 
Mrs.  Jefferson.  Twice  during  the  war  of  the  Revolution  she 
had  to  fly  before  the  approaching  enemy,  and  on  one  of  these 
occasions  she  had  an  infant  two  months  old.  Those  twenty 
seven  slaves  who  perished  miserably  by  the  small-pox  had  been 
the  objects  of  her  care  and  her  affection  for  many  years,  and 
their  terrible  fate  haunted  her  imagination  continually.  Her 
husband,  too,  was  continually  liable  to  capture,  and,  for  long 
periods  she  was  obliged  to  be  separated  from  him,  while  he  was 
concealed  from  the  foe,  or  was  eluding  their  attempts.  Weak 
and  sickly  when  she  fled  from  Tarlton's  troopers,  her  subsequent 
anxieties  rapidly  consumed  her  remaining  strength.     Of  six  chil- 


THE     WIFE    OF    THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  571 

circn,  all   but  two  died  in  infiincy,  and  her  grief  at  so  many 
bereavements  was  sneh  as  mothers  only  know. 

Early  in  May,  1782,  she  was  about  once  more  to  ])ecome  a 
mother ;  and  all  her  friends  looked  forward  to  the  birth  of  the 
child  with  apprehension.  The  child  was  born  on  the  8th  of 
May,  and  she  never  recovered  from  her  confinement.  She  lin- 
gered four  months,  during  which  her  husband  seldom  left  her 
side,  sat  np  with  her  part  of  every  night,  and  administered  her 
medicines  and  drink  to  the  last  moment.  One  of  her  children 
has  given  a  most  affecting  account  of  her  last  moments,  and  of 
Jefferson's  grief  at  her  death. 

"For  four  months,"  she  says,  "he  was  never  out  of  calling; 
when  not  at  her  bedside,  he  was  writing  in  a  small  room  which 
opened  close  at  the  head  of  her  bed.  A  moment  before  the 
closing  scene  he  was  led  from  the  room  almost  in  a  state  of 
insensibility  by  his  sister,  who,  with  great  difficulty,  got  him 
into  his  library,  where  he  fainted,  and  remained  so  long  insen- 
sible that  they  feared  he  never  would  revive.  The  scene  that 
followed  I  did  not  witness;  but  the  violence  of  his  emotion, 
when  almost  hy  stealth  I  entered  his  room  at  night,  to  this  day 
I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  describe.  He  kept  his  room  three 
weeks,  and  I  was  never  a  moment  from  his  side.  lie  walked 
almost  incessantly,  night  and  day,  only  lying  down  occasionally, 
when  nature  was  completely  exhausted,  on  a  pallet  that  had 
been  brought  in  during  his  long  fainting  fit.  When  at  last  he 
left  his  room,  he  rode  out,  and  from  that  time  he  was  incessantly 
on  horseback,  rambling  about  the  mountain  in  the  least  frequented 
roads,  and  just  as  often  through  the  woods.  In  these  melan- 
choly rambles  I  was  his  constant  companion,  a  solitary  witness 
to  many  a  violent  burst  of  grief,  the  remembrance  of  which  has 
consecrated  particular  scenes  beyond  the  power  of  time  to 
obliterate." 

Nor  was  his  grief  of  short  duration.  After  his  own  death, 
which  occurred  forty-four  year  later,  in  the  most  secret  drawer 
of  his  cabinet  were  found  locks  of  hair  and  other  relics  of  his 
wife  and  of  his  lost  children,  with  fond  words  upon  the  enve- 
lopes in  his  own  handwriting.     These  mementos  of  the  past 


572  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

« 

were  all  arranged  in  perfect  order,  and  the  envelopes  showed 
that  they  had  been  frequently  handled. 

The  death  of  his  wife  changed  his  plans  for  the  future.  It 
had  been  his  intention  to  retire  from  public  life,  and  to  pass  his 
existence  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  employed  in  literary  and 
scientific  labors.  His  wife's  death  destroyed  this  dream,  and 
when,  soon  after,  he  was  appointed  minister  to  France,  an 
appointment  which  he  had  twice  before  declined,  he  was  willing 
enough  to  accept  it,  and  change  the  scene. 

To  have  been  so  loved  by  one  of  the  best  and  greatest  and 
purest  of  human  beings,  is  Mrs.  Jefferson's  best  title  to  the 
esteem  of  posterity.  Few  particulars  of  her  life  have  been 
preserved ;  but  we  have  abundant  proofs  of  this  :  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson LOVED  HER. 

On  the  plain  slab  of  white  marble  which  covers  her  remains, 
in  the  burial-place  of  Monticello,  her  husband  caused  to  be 
placed  the  following  inscription :  — 

"To  THE  MEMORY  OP 

Martha  Jefferson, 

Daughter  of  John  Wayles; 

Born  October  the  19th,  1748,  0.  S. 

Intermarried  with 

Thomas  Jefferson 

January  the  1st,  1772; 

Torn  from  hem  by  death 

September  6th,  1782: 

This  monument  of  his  love  is  inscribed." 

To  this  were  added  two  lines  from  Homer's  Iliad,  which  Pope 
thus  translates :  — 

"  If  in  the  melancholy  shades  below 
The  flames  of  friends  and  lovers  cease  to  glow, 
Yet  mine  shall  sacred  last ;  mine  undecayed 
Burn  on  through  death,  and  animate  my  shade." 

A  grand-daughter  of  Mrs.  Jefferson  is  still  residing  in  Phila- 
delphia. She  is  the  wife  of  the  Hon.  Nicholas  P.  Trist,  a  gen- 
tleman well  known  in  the  diplomatic  history  of  the  country. 
Monticello,  that  beautiful  mansion  amid  the  mountains  of  the 
Blue  Ridge,  that  was  once  adorned  by  the  presence  of  this 


THE    WIFE    or    THOMAS    JEFFERSON.  573 

estimable  woman,  is  fast  going  to  decay,  and  parts  ot  it  are 
already  much  dilapidated.  The  present  occupant  charges 
visitors  twenty  cents  for  admission  to  the  premises,  and  those 
visitors  have  been  so  numerous  and  ill-bred  that  the  granite  slab 
of  Jefferson's  tomb,  which  was  placed  over  his  remains  when  he 
was  buried,  has  been  all  broken  oif  and  carried  away.  Con- 
siderable progress,  I  hear,  has  been  made  in  the  destruction  of 
the  stone  which  took  its  place.  The  graveyard  is  totally  un- 
cared  for,  and  the  whole  scene  is  a  disgrace  to  the  country 
which  Jefferson  served  and  honored.  Let  us  hope  that,  before 
it  is  too  late,  measures  wdll  be  taken  to  restore  and  preserve  so 
interesting  an  abode. 


574  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHT. 


THE   WIFE  OF   JAMES   MADISON. 


-•o»- 


DoROTHY  Payne,  who  was  the  wife  of  President  Madison, 
was  the  daughter  of  a  Virginia  planter,  though  she  was  not  her- 
self born  in  Virginia.  It  was  while  her  parents  were  on  a  visit 
to  some  friends  in  North  Carolina,  in  1769,  that  her  mother  gave 
birth  to  the  infant  who  was  destined  to  have  so  remarkable  and 
distincruished  a  career.  Soon  after  this  event,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Payne,  having  conscientious  scruples  with  regard  to  the  holding 
of  slaves,  set  theirs  free,  joined  the  Quakers,  gave  up  their  plan- 
tation, and  removed  to  Phila  -'elphia.  Their  daughter,  Dorothy, 
was  brought  up  in  the  strict  tenets  and  sober  habits  of  the 
Friends,  and,  when  she  was  twenty  years  of  age,  married  a 
young  lawyer,  of  that  persuasion,  named  Todd.  Three  years 
after,  her  husband  died,  leaving  her  the  mother  of  a  son,  with 
little  provision  for  their  future  maintenance. 

At  this  time  her  mother  was  also  a  widow,  and  was  living  in 
Philadelphia  in  such  narrow  circumstances  that  she  Avas  com- 
pelled to  add  to  her  little  income  by  taking  boarders.  Mrs. 
Todd  went  to  reside  with  her  mother,  and  assisted  her  in  the 
care  of  her  house.  She  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  young 
w^omen  in  Philadelphia.  I  have  before  me  a  portrait,  taken  of 
her  in  early  life,  which  fully  justifies  her  reputation  for  beauty. 
Her  figure  was  nobly  proportioned,  and  her  face  had  the  robust 
charms  of  a  fresh  and  vigorous  country  girl.  After  her  hus- 
band's death  she  laid  aside  the  prim  garments  and  the  serious 
demeanor  of  the  Quakers,  and  gave  free  play  to  the  natural  gay- 
ety  of  her  disposition.  Indeed,  she  formally  ceased  to  be  a 
Quakeress,  and  attended  the  more  fashionable  Episcopal  Church. 
Dolly  Todd,  as  she  was  then  called,  had  considerable  celebrity 


THE    WIFE    OF    JAMES    MADISON.  575 

in  Philadelphia,  both  for  the  charms  of  her  person  and  the  live- 
liness of  her  conversation. 

Anions:  her  mother's  boarders  at  this  time  were  several  mem- 
bers  of  Congress,  to  whom,  of  course,  the  3'oung  widow  mado 
herself  as  agreca1)le  as  she  could.  Aaron  Burr,  then  a  senator 
of  the  United  States,  ^vas  one  of  these  boarders,  and  James 
Madison,  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives  from  Vir- 
ginia, was  another. 

Mr.  Madison  was  considered  by  the  ladies  as  a  conlirmed  old 
bachelor,  since  he  had  attained  the  age  of  forty-three  without 
having  yielded  to  the  allurements  of  the  sex.  lie  was  the  last 
man  in  the  w^orld,  as  his  friends  thought,  to  be  captivated  by  a 
dashing  young  widow.  Of  all  the  public  men  who  have  figured 
in  public  life  in  the  United  States  he  was  the  most  studious  and 
thoughtful.  The  eldest  son  of  a  rich  Virginia  planter,  he  was 
3"et  so  devoted  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  that,  for  months 
toirether  at  Princeton  Colle^^e,  he  allowed  himself  but  three 
hours'  sleep  out  of  the  twenty-four,  —  an  excess  which  injured 
his  health  for  all  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  appeared  to  live  wholly 
in  the  world  of  ideas.  Daniel  Webster  reckoned  him  tlic  airiest 
expounder  of  the  constitution,  and  Thomas  Jefferson  pronounced 
him  the  best  head  in  Virginia.  Without  being  a  brilliant  ora- 
tor, he  was  an  excellent  argumentative  speaker,  and  always  con- 
ciliated the  feelings  of  his  opponents  by  the  gentleness  of  his 
demeanor  and  the  courtesy  of  his  language.  His  bearing  and 
address  were  remarkably  simple  and  modest.  He  was  always 
dressed  in  a  suit  of  black,  and  looked  more  like  a  quiet  student, 
busy  only  with  his  thoughts  and  his  books,  than  a  statesman  of 
a  young  republic.  One  trait  of  character  alone  seemed  to  fit 
him  for  the  companionship  of  Dolly  Todd.  He  was  a  merry 
man,  with  a  keen  relish  for  every  kind  of  innocent  fun,  and  told 
a  story  extremely  w^ell. 

Aaron  Burr  in  his  old  age  (so  one  of  his  friends  told  me) 
used  to  boast  that  he  "  made  the  match  "  between  James  Madi- 
son and  Mrs.  Todd.  However  that  may  bo,  they  were  married 
in  1794,  when  Mr.  Madison  was  forty-three,  and  Mrs.  Todd 
twenty-five.  Her  little  son,  aged  five  years,  never  had  a  rival 
in  his  mother's  affections,  since  no  children  blessed  their  union. 


576  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGKAPHY. 

A  few  years  after  the  marriage,  when  Thomas  Jefferson  came  to 
the  presidency,  Mr.  Madison  was  appointed  secretary  of  state, — ■ 
an  office  which  he  continued  to  hold  for  eight  years,  during  which 
Mrs.  Madison  was  the  centre  of  a  brilUant  circle  of  society  in 
Washington.  The  gossips  of  the  day  were  of  opinion  that  her 
influence  over  her  husband  was  greater  than  it  should  have  been, 
and  that  it  was  sometimes  her  voice  which  decided  appointments 
and  influenced  measures. 

In  1809  Mr.  Madison  became  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  and  his  vivacious  and  beautiful  wife  enjoyed,  for  the  next 
eight  years,  a  splendid  theatre  for  the  exhibition  of  her  charms. 

It  was  durinof  her  husband's  second  term  that  the  interestino: 
event  of  her  life  occurred.  In  August,  1814,  the  news  came  to 
Washington  that  a  British  army  had  landed  on  the  coast,  within 
a  hundred  miles  of  the  capital.  A  few  days  later  the  president 
and  his  cabinet  were  flying  toward  Virginia,  while  Mrs.  Madi- 
fion  sat  at  a  window  of  the  presidential  mansion,  listening  to  the 
distant  thunder  of  cannon  on  the  disastrous  held  of  Bladensburg. 
She  held  a  telescope  in  her  hands,  with  which  she  looked  anx- 
iously down  the  road  by  which  her  husband  was  expected  to 
return  ;  but  she  could  see  nothing  but  squads  of  militia  wander- 
ing about  without  purpose  or  command.  At  the  door  of  the 
house  a  carriage  stood,  filled  with  plate  and  papers,  ready  to 
leave  at  an  instant's  warning.  The  Mayor  of  Washington  visited 
her  in  the  course  of  that  terrible  afternoon,  and  advised  her  to 
leave  the  city ;  but  she  calmly  refused,  and  said  she  would  not 
leave  her  abode  without  the  president's  orders.  A  messenger 
from  him  at  length  arrived,  bearing  a  note,  written  hurriedly 
with  a  lead-pencil,  telling  her  to  fly. 

Among  the  precious  articles  in  the  White  House  was  the  fine 
portrait  of  Washington  taken  by  Stewart  from  life.  She  seized 
a  carving-knife  from  the  table,  cut  the  picture  out  of  its  frame, 
rolled  it  up,  hurried  with  it  into  the  carriage,  and  drove  away. 
At  Georgetown,  two  miles  from  the  city,  she  met  the  president 
and  cabinet,  who  were  assembled  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac 
about  to  cross.  There  was  but  one  little  boat  on  the  shore,  in 
which  onl}^  three  persons  at  a  time  could  trust  themselves.  The 
president  assigned  to  Mrs.  Madison  nine  cavalrymen,  and  di- 


THE     WIFE     OF     JAMES     MADISON.  577 

rectcd  her  to  meet  him  on  the  following  clay  at  a  certain  tavern 
sixteen  miles  from  Geori^etown.  In  the  dusk  of  the  evening:  she 
began  her  march,  accompanied  by  two  or  three  ladies,  while  the 
president  and  his  companions  were  rowed  across  the  river. 

When  the  British  officers  entered  the  president's  house  that 
evening,  they  found  the  dinner-table  spread  for  forty  guests,  the 
president  having  invited  a  large  dinner-party  for  that  day.  The 
Avine  was  cooling  on  the  sideboard ;  the  plates  were  warming  by 
the  fire ;  the  knives,  forks,  and  spoons  were  arranged  upon  the 
snowy  table-cloth.  In  the  kitchen,  joints  of  meat  were  roasting 
on  spits  before  the  fire  ;  saucepans  full  of  vegetables  were  steam- 
ing upon  the  range,  and  everything  was  in  a  state  of  forward- 
ness for  a  substantial  banquet.  The  officers  sat  down  to  the 
table,  devoured  the  dinner,  and  concluded  the  entertainment  by 
setting  fire  to  the  house.  It  was  a  terrible  night.  The  capitol 
was  burned,  the  treasury  building,  the  president's  house,  all  the 
principal  public  buildings,  and  the  navy  yard. 

It  w^as  not  until  the  evening  of  the  folio w^ing  day  that  Mrs. 
Madison,  in  the  midst  of  a  violent  storm  of  thunder,  wind,  and 
rain,  approached  the  tavern  to  wdiich  the  president  had  directed 
her.  He  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  the  landlady,  terrified  by  the 
events  around  her,  had  barred  the  doors,  and  refused  to  admit 
the  drenched  and  exhausted  ladies.  The  troopers  were  ol^ligcd 
to  force  an  entrance.  Two  hours  later,  the  President  of  the 
United  States  reached  the  house,  wet,  hungry,  and  fatigued. 
The  landlady  could  provide  them  with  nothing  but  some  bread 
and  cold  meat ;  after  partaking  of  w^hich  they  retired  to  a  mis- 
erable bed,  not  without  fears  that  the  next  morning  would  find 
them  prisoners  of  the  British  general.  It  happened,  however, 
that  the  English  troops  retired  even  more  rapidly  than  they  had 
advanced,  and  in  a  few  days  the  president  and  his  wife  returned 
to  Washington,  which  was  still  smoking  from  the  recent  confla- 
gration. They  found  the  best  lodgings  they  could,  and  the 
government  was  soon  performing  its  accustomed  duties. 

We  have  a  pleasing  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Madison,  in  an  old  num- 
ber of  the  "National  Intelligencer,"  in  which  the  editor  describes 
the  scene  at  the  president's  house  on  the  evening  when  the  news 
of  peace  arrived,  in  February,  1815  :  — 

37 


578      PEOPLE  S  BOOK  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

''Late  in  the  afteraoou  came  thundering  down  Pennsjlvauia 
A-venue  a  coach  and  four  foaming  steeds,  in  which  was  the  bearer 
of  the  good  news.  Cheers  followed  the  carriage  as  it  sped  its 
way  to  the  residence  of  the  president.  Soon  after  nightfall, 
members  of  Congress  and  others  deeply  interested  in  the  event 
presented  themselves  at  the  president's  house,  the  doors  of  which 
stood  open.  When  the  writer  of  this  entered  the  drawing-room 
at  about  eight  o'clock,  it  was  crowded  to  its  full  capacity,  Mrs. 
Madison  (the  president  being  with  the  cabinet)  doing  the  honors 
of  the  occasion.  And  what  a  happy  scene  it  was  !  Among  the 
members  present  were  gentlemen  of  opposite  politics,  but  lately 
arrayed  against  one  another  in  continual  conflict  and  fierce  de- 
bate, now  with  elated  spirits  thanking  God,  and  with  softened 
hearts  cordially  felicitating  one  another  upon  the  joyful  intelli- 
gence which  (should  the  terms  of  the  treaty  prove  acceptable) 
should  re-establish  peace.  Bnt  the  most  conspicuous  object  in 
the  room,  the  observed  of  all  observers,  was  Mrs.  Madison  her- 
self, then  in  the  meridian  of  life  and  queenly  beauty.  She  Avas  in 
her  person,  for  the  moment,  the  representative  of  the  feelings  of 
him  who  was  in  grave  consultation  with  his  official  advisers.  No 
one  could  doubt,  who  beheld  the  radiance  of  joy  which  lighted 
up  her  countenance  and  difi'used  its  beams  around,  that  all  un- 
certainty was  at  an  end,  and  that  the  government  of  the  country 
had,  in  very  truth  (to  use  an  expression  of  Mr.  Adams  on  a 
very  different  occasion),  *  passed  from  gloom  to  glory.'  With  a 
grace  all  her  own,  to  her  visitors  she  reciprocated  heartfelt  con- 
gratulations upon  the  glorious  and  happy  change  in  the  aspect 
of  public  affiiirs ;  dispensing  with  liberal  hand  to  every  indi- 
vidual in  the  large  assembly  the  proverbial  hospitalities  of  that 
house." 

From  1817  to  1836,  when  her  husband  died,  she  lived  in 
retirement  at  Mr.  Madison's  seat  in  Virginia,  dispensing  a  lib- 
eral hospitality,  and  cheering  her  husband's  life  by  her  gayety 
and  humor.  Her  last  years  were  spent  in  the  city  of  Washing- 
ton. She  retained  much  of  her  beauty  and  vivacious  grace  to 
her  eightieth  year,  and  was  much  courted  by  the  frequenters  of 
the  capital.     She  died  in  the  year  1849,  aged  eighty-two. 

According  to  the  philosophers,  this  was  a  very  ill-assorted 


THE    WIFE    or    JAMES    MADISON.  579 

marriage,  since  she  was  a  peculiarly  physical  woman  and  he  a 
singularly  intellectual  man  ;  and  this  dilTerence  was  aggravated 
by  the  disparity  in  their  ages,  —  the  husband  being  eigliteeii 
years  older  than  the  wife.  Nature  accorded  with  the  pliiloso- 
phers,  and  they  had  no  children.  Nevertheless,  the  exc(;llent 
temper  of  Mr.  Madison  and  the  good  sense  of  his  wife  appear 
to  have  prevailed  over  their  discordant  constitutions ;  they  arc 
thought  to  have  lived  very  happily  together,  and  both  died  past 
fourscore.  Mr.  Madison  was  jocular  to  the  last.  Some  friends 
having  come  to  see  him,  a  short  time  before  his  death,  he  apol- 
ogized for  falling  back  upon  the  pillow  of  his  bed  by  saying, 
with  his  old  smile :  — 

"I  alw^ays  talk  more  easily  when  I  lie" 

Old  men,  who  have  lived  for  forty  years  unhappily  at  home, 
are  not  likely  to  joke  upon  their  dying  bed.  They  get  en- 
tirely out  of  the  habit  of  joking  by  that  time. 


680  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF      BlOGEAPHr. 


THE  WIFE  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


Daniel  Webster  was  twice  married.     It  is  of  his  first  wife, 
who  was  the  mother  of  all  his  children,  that  I  write  to-day. 

In  colonial  times  the  clergy  were  the  aristocracy  of  New 
England.  Their  incomes  were  indeed  exceedingly  small,  com- 
pared with  those  of  our  day ;  but,  as  they  were  generally  men 
of  learning,  virtue,  and  politeness,  and  as  all  the  people  were 
religiously  disposed,  they  were  held  in  the  highest  respect,  and 
exercised  great  influence.  Small  as  their  revenues  were  (sel- 
dom more  than  five  hundred  dollars  a  year),  they  generally 
lived  in  very  good  style,  and,  in  many  instances,  accumulated 
property.  Their  salaries  were  increased  by  the  bountiful  gifts 
of  the  people,  and  they  usually  had  a  piece  of  land  sufficient  for 
the  keeping  of  a  cow  and  a  horse,  and  for  the  raising  of  their 
vegetables.  Besides  this,  all  the  minister's  family  assisted  in 
its  support ;  the  sons  tilled  the  garden  and  took  care  of  the  ani- 
mals ;  the  daughters  assisted  their  mother  in  spinning  the  wool 
for  the  clothing  of  the  household.  Peter  Parley,  whose  father 
was  a  New  England  clergyman  of  the  olden  time,  mentions  in 
his  "Eecollections,"  that  for  fifty  years  the  salary  of  his  father 
averaged  three  hundred  dollars  a  year,  upon  which,  with  the 
assistance  of  a  few  acres  of  land,  he  reared  a  family  of  eight 
children,  sent  two  sons  to  college,  and  left  at  his  death  tw) 
thousand  dollars  in  money. 

The  family  of  the  clergyman  was  expected  to  be,  and  usually 
was,  the  model  family  of  the  parish.  The  children  generally 
had  the  benefit  of  their  father's  instruction,  as  well  as  access  to 
his  little  library  ;  and,  if  his  daughters  did  not  learn  French  nor 
play  the  piano,  they  had  the  benefit  of  hearing  Intel lij^^cvit  con 


THE  WIFE  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER.      581 

versation  and  of  associating  with  the  best  miuds  of  their  native 
villaixe. 

Grace  Fletcher,  the  wife  of  Daniel  Webster,  was  the  daughter 
of  Elijah  Fletcher,  a  clergyman  of  New  Hampshire,  where  she 
was  born  in  the  year  1781.  Though  her  father  died  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty-nine,  when  Grace  was  but  five  years 
of  age,  he  is  still  remembered  in  New  Hampshire  for  his 
zeal  and  generosity.  lie  was  particularly  noted  fur  his 
patronage  of  young  students,  many  of  whom  he  prepared  foi* 
college.  After  his  death  his  widow  married  the  minister  of 
Salisbury,  New  Hampshire,  the  town  in  which  Daniel  Webster 
was  born,  in  which  he  grew  up  to  manhood,  and  in  which  he 
first  established  himself  in  the  practice  of  the  law.  Thus  it 
Was  that  she  became  acquainted  with  her  future  husband.  Daniel 
Webster  was  only  one  year  older  than  herself.  The}^  attended 
the  same  church ;  they  went  to  school  together ;  they  met  one 
another  at  their  neighbors'  houses ;  and  this  early  intimacy 
ripened  at  length  into  a  warmer  and  deeper  attachment. 

Notwithstanding  his  extraordinary  talents,  and  the  warmth  of 
his  temperament,  Daniel  Webster  did  not  marry  until  he  was 
twenty-six  years  of  age.  Few  young  men  have  had  a  harder 
struggle  with  poverty,  and  no  one  ever  bore  poverty  more 
cheerfully.  After  practising  law  awhile  near  his  father's  house 
in  Salisbury,  he  removed,  in  1808,  to  Portsmouth,  which  was 
then  the  largest  and  wealthiest  town  in  New  Hampshire,  as  well 
as  its  only  seaport.  A  lady,  who  lived  then  in  the  town,  has 
recorded,  in  the  most  agreeable  manner,  her  recollections  of  the 
great  orator  at  that  period.  She  was  the  minister's  daughter. 
It  was  a  custom  in  those  days  for  strangers  to  be  shown  into  the 
minister's  pew.  One  Sunday  her  sister  returned  from  church, 
and  said  that  there  had  been  a  remarkable  person  in  the  pew 
with  her,  who  had  riveted  her  attention,  and  that  she  was  sure  he 
had  a  most  marked  character  for  good  or  for  evil.  At  that  time 
Webster  was  exceedingly  slender,  and  his  fiice  was  very  sallow ; 
bnt  his  noble  and  spacious  forehead,  his  bright  eyes  deep  set  in 
his  head,  and  the  luxuriant  locks  of  his  black  hair,  together  with 
the  intelligent  and  amiable  expression  of  his  countenance,  ren- 
dered his  appearance  striking  in  the  extreme.     In  a  few  days 


582  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  stranger  was  at  home  in  the  minister's  family,  and  there 
soon  formed  a  circle  round  him  of  which  he  was  the  life  and 
eoul. 

'*I  well  remember,"  says  this  lady,  "one  afternoon,  that  he 
came  in  when  the  elders  of  the  f\\mily  were  absent.  He  sat 
down  by  the  window,  and,  as  now  and  then  an  inhabitant  of  the 
town  passed  through  the  street,  his  fancy  was  caught  by  their 
appearance  and  his  imagination  excited,  and  he  improvised  the 
most  humorous  imaginary  histories  about  them,  which  would 
have  furnished  a  rich  treasure  for  Dickens,  could  he  have  been 
the  delighted  listener  instead  of  the  3^oung  girl  for  whose 
amusement  this  wealth  of  invention  was  expended." 

Another  of  his  Portsmouth  friends  used  to  say  that  there 
never  was  such  an  actor  lost  to  the  stage  as  he  would  have 
made,  had  he  chosen  to  turn  his  talents  in  that  direction. 

The  young  lawyer  prospered  well  in  this  New  Hampshire  town, 
and  he  was  soon  in  the  receipt  of  an  income  which  for  that  day 
was  considerable.  In  June,  1809,  about  a  year  after  his  arrival, 
be  suddenly  left  Portsmouth,  without  having  said  a  word  to  his 
friends  of  his  destination.  They  conjectured,  however,  that  he 
had  gone  to  Salisbury  to  visit  his  family.  He  returned  in  a 
week  or  two,  but  did  not  return  alone.  In  truth,  he  had  gone 
home  to  be  married,  and  he  brought  back  his  wife  with  him. 
She  was  a  lady  most  gentle  in  her  manners,  and  of  a  winning, 
unobtrusive  character,  who  immediately  made  all  her  husband's 
friends  her  own.  The  lady  quoted  above  gives  so  pleasant  a 
description  of  their  home  and  character,  that  I  will  quote  a  few 
sentences  from  it :  — 

"Mrs.  Webster's  mind  was  naturally  of  a  high  order,  and 
whatever  was  the  degree  of  culture  she  received,  it  fitted  her  to 
be  the  chosen  companion  and  the  trusted  friend  of  her  gifted 
husband.  She  was  never  elated,  never  thrown  oflf  the  balance 
of  her  habitual  composure  by  the  singular  early  success  of  her 
husband,  and  the  applause  constantly  following  him.  It  was  her 
striking  peculiarity  that  she  was  always  equal  to  all  occasions  ; 
that  she  appeared  with  the  same  quiet  dignity  and  composed 
self-possession  in  the  drawing-room  in  Washington,  as  in  her 
own  quiet  parlor.     It  w;^s  only  when  an  unexpected  burst  of 


THE    WIFE     OF    DANIEL    WEBSTER.  583 

appl'insc  followed  some  noble  effort  of  her  hiishand  tli:it  the 
quickened  pulse  sent  the  blood  to  her  heart,  and  the  tears 
started  to  her  eyes.  Uniting  with  great  sweetness  of  dis- 
position, unaffected,  frank,  and  winning  nianner.«,  no  one  could 
api)roach  her  without  wishing  to  know  her,  and  no  one  could 
know  her  well  without  loving  her.  When  Mr.  Webster  brought 
this  interesting  companion  to  Portsmouth,  the  circle  that  gath- 
ered around  them  became  more  intimate,  and  was  held  by  more 
powerful  attractions.  There  certainly  never  was  a  more  charm- 
ing room  than  the  low-roofed  simple  parlor,  where,  relieved 
from  the  cares  of  business,  in  the  full  gayety  of  his  disposition, 
he  gave  himself  np  to  relaxation." 

In  due  time  a  daughter  was  born  to  them,  the  little  Grace 
Webster  who  was  so  wonderfully  precocious  and  agreeable. 
Unhappily,  she  inherited  her  mother's  delicate  constitution,  and 
she  died  in  childhood.  Three  times  in  his  life,  it  is  said,  Daniel 
Webster  wept  convulsively.  One  of  these  occasions  was  when 
he  laid  upon  the  bed  this  darling  girl,  who  had  died  in  his  arms, 
and  turned  away  from  the  sight  of  her  lifeless  body.  All  the 
four  children  of  Mrs.  Webster,  except  her  son  Fletcher,  appear 
to  have  inherited  their  mother's  weakness. 

Charles,  a  lovely  child,  both  in  mind  and  in  person,  died  in 
infancy.  Her  daughter  Julia,  wiio  lived  to  marry  the  sou  of  a 
distinguished  family  in  Boston,  died  in  her  thirtieth  year.  Ed- 
w^ard,  her  third  son,  served  as  major  in  the  Mexican  war,  and 
died  in  Mexico,  aged  twenty-eight.  Fletcher,  the  most  robust 
of  her  children,  commanded  a  regiment  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  and  fell  in  one  of  its  disastrous  conflicts. 

Beyond  the  general  impressions  of  her  friends,  we  know  little 
of  the  life  of  this  estimable  woman.  She  lived  retired  from  the 
public  gaze,  and  the  incidents  of  her  life  were  of  that  domestic 
and  ordinary  nature  which  are  seldom  recorded.  In  this  dearth 
of  information,  the  reader  will  certainly  be  interested  in  reading 
one  of  her  letters  to  her  husband,  written  soon  after  the  death 
of  their  little  son  Charles.  It  shows  her  afiectionate  nature, 
and  is  expressed  with  all  the  tender  eloquence  of  a  bereaved  but 
resigned  mother.     The  following  is  the  letter : 


581  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

"I  Lave  a  great  desire  to  write  to  you,  my  beloved  husband , 
but  I  doubt  if  I  can  write  legibly.  I  have  just  received  your 
letter  in  answer  to  William,  which  told  you  that  dear  little 
Charley  was  no  more.  I  have  dreaded  the  hour  which  should 
destroy  your  hopes,  but  trust  you  will  not  let  this  event  afflict 
you  too  much,  and  that  wc  both  shall  be  able  to  resign  him 
without  a  murmur,  happy  in  the  reflection  that  he  has  returned 
to  his  heavenly  Father  pure  as  I  received  him.  It  was  an 
inexpressible  consolation  to  me,  when  I  contemplated  him  in 
his  sickness,  that  he  had  not  one  regret  for  the  past,  nor  one 
dread  for  the  future ;  he  was  patient  as  a  lamb  during  all  his 
sufferings,  and  they  were  at  last  so  great,  I  was  happy  when 
they  were  ended. 

"  I  shall  always  reflect  on  his  brief  life  with  mournful  pleasure, 
and,  I  hope,  remember  with  gratitude  all  the  joy  he  gave  me; 
and  it  has  been  great.  And  oh !  how  fondly  did  I  flatter  my- 
self it  would  be  lasting. 

"  *  It  was  but  yesterdaj^  my  child,  thy  little  heart  beat  high ; 
And  I  had  scorned  the  warning  voice  that  told  me  thou  must  die." 

"Dear  little  Charles!  He  sleeps  alone  under  St.  Paul's. 
Oh,  do  not,  my  dear  husband,  talk  of  your  own  final  abode; 
that  is  a  subject  I  never  can  dwell  on  for  a  moment.  With  you 
here,  my  dear,  I  can  never  be  desolate  !  Oh,  may  Heaven  in  its 
mercy  long  preserve  you  !  And  that  we  may  ever  wisely  im- 
prove every  event,  and  yet  rejoice  together  in  this  life,  prays 
your  ever  affectionate  G.  W." 

Mrs.  Webster  lived  but  forty-six  years.  In  December,  1827, 
Mr.  Webster,  being  then  a  member  of  Congress,  started  with 
his  wife  for  the  city  of  Washington.  She  had  been  suffering 
for  some  time  from  a  tumor,  of  a  somewhat  unusual  character, 
which  had  much  lowered  the  tone  of  her  system.  On  reach- 
ing New  York  she  was  so  sick  that  her  husband  left  her  there 
and  proceeded  to  Washington  alone.  Having  little  hope  of  her 
recovery,  he  had  serious  thoughts  of  resigning  his  seat,  in  order 
to  devote  himself  exclusively  to  the  care  of  his  wife,  especially 
as   he   thought   it   probable    that   she   would   linger  for  many 


THE  WIFE  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER.      [^85 

months.  But  he  hud  scarcely  reached  Washingloii  when  ho 
was  suiniuoned  back  to  New  York  by  the  intelligence  that  her 
disease  had  taken  a,  dangerous  turn.  He  watched  at  her  bed- 
side for  three  weeks,  during  which  her  strength  iiisensil^ly 
lessened  and  her  llesh  wasted  away,  though  she  sufiered  little 
pain.  I  have  before  me  fcnir  little  notes  which  the  alllicted 
husband  wrote  on  the  day  of  her  death,  which  tell  the  story  of 
her  departure  in  an  aflecting  manner  :  — 

"Monday  Mormng,  January  21st. 

"Dear  Brother, — Mrs.  Webster  still  lives,  but  is  evidently 
near  her  end.  AVc  did  not  expect  her  continuance  3'esterday 
from  hour  to  hour.     Yours,  affectionately,  D.  AV." 

This  was  written  at  daylight  in  the  morning.  At  nine  o'clock, 
he  wrote  to  an  old  friend  :  — 

"Mrs.  "Webster  still  lives,  but  cannot  possibly  remain  long 
with  us.  We  expected  her  decease  yesterday  from  hour  to 
hour." 

At  half-past  two  that  afternoon  he  wrote  :  — 

"Dear  Brother,  —  Poor  Grace  has  gone  to  Heaven.  She 
has  now  just  breathed  her  last  breath.  I  shall  go  with  her 
forthwith  to  Boston,  and,  on  receipt  of  this,  I  hope  you  will 
come  there  if  3'ou  can.  I  shall  stay  there  some  days.  ]May 
God  bless  you  and  yours." 

At  the  some  hour  he  wrote  the  iollowing  note  to  the  lady 
quoted  above :  — 

"My  DEAR  Eliza, — The  scene  is  ended,  and  Mrs.  Welistcr 
is  gone  to  God.  She  has  just  breathed  her  last  breath.  How 
she  died,  —  with  what  cheerfulness  and  submission,  with  what 
hopes  and  what  happiness,  how  kindly  she  remembered  her 
friends,  and  how  often  and  how  affectionately  she  spoke  of  you, 
I  hope  soon  to  be  able  to  tell  you  ;  till  then,  adieu." 


586  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

Her  husband  mourned  her  departure  sincerely  and  long.  And 
well  he  might,  for  she  was  his  guardian  angel.  After  her  death 
he  was  drawn  more  and  more  into  politics,  and  gave  way  at 
length  to  an  ambition  for  political  place  and  distinction,  which 
lessened  his  usefulness,  impaired  his  dignity,  and  embittered  his 
closing  years. 

Upon  the  summit  of  a  commanding  hill,  in  Marshfield,  which 
overlooks  the  ocean,  is  the  spot  prepared  by  Daniel  Webster  for 
the  burial-place  of  his  family.  There  his  own  remains  repose, 
and  there,  also,  those  of  three  of  his  children.  There,  too,  he 
erected  a  marble  column  to  the  memory  of  their  mother,  which 
bears  the  following  inscription  :  — 

"Grace  Webster. 
"Wife  of  Daniel  Webster: 
Born  January  the  16th,  1781; 
Died  January  the  21iST,  1828. 

**  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  Qod." 


:.ij^sxn-[ 


.r 


.lEANNE    DARC.  ^  537 


JEANNE    DARC. 


During  the  last  few  years  a  dozen  volumes  or  more  have 
been  published  iu  France  containuig  documents  and  researches 
relating  to  the  career  of  this  illustrious  heroine,  the  savior  of 
her  country.  The  reader  will  bo  interested,  perhaps,  in  learn- 
ing the  substance  of  those  volumes,  and  ascertaining  what  it  is 
rational  to  believe  respecting  the  subject  of  them. 

In  the  first  place,  we  all  spell  her  name  wrong.  She  was  not 
an  aristrocratic  D'Arc,  but  a  plebeian  Dare  ;  and  her  first  name 
was  Jeanne,  not  Joan,  as  we  are  accustomed  to  see  it.  The 
name  of  Dare  is  still  common  in  the  province  of  France  from 
which  she  sprang ;  and  we  have  the  authority  of  a  learned  de- 
scendant of  her  family  for  the  spelling  which  we  have  given. 
Jeanne  Darc  is,  then,  the  name  of  our  heroine. 

She  was  born  at  Domremy,  a  village  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Meuse,  in  1412,  and  she  was  the  daughter  of  Jaques  and  Isabel 
Darc,  who  were  serfs.  Her  father  was  a  laborer,  who  pos- 
sessed a  cabin,  a  little  garden,  and  some  cattle ;  but,  having  a 
iiimilv  of  five  children  to  maintain  at  a  time  when  France  was 
desolated  by  civil  war,  Jeanne  was  reared  in  circumstances  not 
fiir  removed  from  want.  By  turns  the  child  assisted  her  mother 
in  the  labors  of  the  household,  and  her  father  in  the  care  of  his 
beasts.  The  village  in  which  she  lived  was  partly  in  Cham- 
pagne and  partly  in  Lorraine  —  the  latter  province  not  being  at 
that  time  subjected  to  the  King  of  France.  Upon  this  border 
line,  in  that  time  of  civil  war,  party  spirit  was  intense  —  as 
much  so  as  it  was  in  the  border  States  durinsr  our  late  war. 
The  young  girl,  at  an  early  period  of  her  life,  imbibed  an  en- 
thusiasm for  the  royal  cause  and  a  passionate  attachment  for  tho 


588  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

person  of  the  king,  Charles  VII.,  similar  to  that  which  some 
people  in  England  felt  for  the  princes  of  the  House  of  Stuart. 

Another  fact  is  to  be  noted,  —  her  father's  cottage  was  situated 
very  near  the  village  church.  Her  mother,  it  appears,  was  a 
zealous  Catholic ;  and  her  daughter,  as  she  grew  toward  maturi- 
ty, became  as  devoted  to  her  religion  as  to  her  king.  The  near- 
ness of  the  church,  it  is  thought,  nourished  the  flame  of  her 
devotion.  She  was  a  solitary  girl,  much  given  to  reflection, 
and  was  occasionally  discovered  by  her  friends  in  lonely  places 
with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  heaven,  as  though  she  w^ere  commun- 
ing with  celestial  beings. 

In  her  thirteenth  year  the  war  approached  her  hitherto  peace- 
ful province,  and  Jeanne  frequently  saw  the  dead  and  wounded 
brought  in  from  the  field.  A  hostile  force  at  length  approached 
the  villao^e  itself,  and  all  its  inhabitants  fled  in  consternation  to 
an  island  in  the  river,  from  w^hich  they  returned  to  find  it  plun- 
dered and  half  burnt.  These  events  stirred  the  compassionate 
soul  of  the  young  girl  to  its  depths,  and  caused  her  at  length  to 
indulsre  the  dream  of  becominsf  herself  the  instrument  of  her 
country's  deliverance.  Her  religious  enthusiasm  increased  w^th 
her  years,  and  she  imagined  that  she  heard  heavenly  voices  com- 
manding her  to  go  forth  and  deliver  the  kingdom. 

Now  there  had  long  been  a  kind  of  expectation,  in  the  supei- 
stitious  minds  of  the  French  peasantry,  that  France,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time,  w^as  to  be  freed  from  her  English  invaders  by 
means  of  a  Virgin.  It  is  highly  probable  that  Jeanne  Dare 
was  familiar  with  this  expectation,  and  that  it  led  her  at  length 
to  the  conviction  that  she  was  the  virgin  destined  by  Heaven  for 
this  glorious  work.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that, 
before  she  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  she  w^as  fully  possessed 
with  the  idea  that  the  delivery  of  France  was  her  mission. 

She  first  revealed  her  design  to  her  father.  She  Vv^as  her  fath- 
er's favorite  child,  and  he  w^as  content,  at  first,  to  laugh  at  her 
delusion ;  but,  finding  that  she  persisted  in  it,  he  adopted  the 
tone  of  authority  and  commanded  her  not  to  leave  her  home. 
She  feigned  to  be  submissive  to  her  father's  commands,  and  en 
deavored  next  to  prevail  upon  her  uncle,  who  lived  in  the  next 
village,  to  bring  her  father  over  to  her  scheme.     Tliis  uncle  was 


JEANNE    DARC.  589 

SO  much  iiinuoncccl  by  her  entreaties,  that  he  made  known  lier 
wish  to  11  French  captana  who  was  stationed  near. 

"My  niece,"  said  he,  *' wishes  to  convey  succors  to  Kiiif^ 
Charles  VII." 

"Box  her  ears,"  said  the  captain  in  really,  "and  send  her  homo 
to  her  parents." 

Her  family  endeavored  to  wean  her  from  her  supposed  infatu- 
ation by  getting  her  a  husband  ;  but  she  firmly  refused  either  to 
marry  or  to  promise  marriage.  In  the  meantime,  the  young 
enthusiast,  who  was  tall,  finely  proportioned,  and  highly  pre- 
possessing, and  whose  enthusiastic  piety  had  been  remarked  and 
admired  bv  her  neio^hbors,  be^au  to  make  converts  in  her  native 
village.  In  her  sixteenth  year  the  news  of  fresh  disasters  to 
her  native  country  roused  her  to  the  highest  pitch  of  compas- 
sion and  determination.  She  went  herself  to  the  captain  just 
referred  to,  and  said  to  him  :  — 

"  Though  I  wear  out  my  legs  up  to  my  knees,  I  must  and  will 
go  and  raise  the  siege  of  Orleans." 

Gaining  no  encouragement  from  him,  she  obtained  an  inter- 
view with  a  powerful  duke,  and  made  such  an  impression  upon 
his  mind  that  he  gave  her  a  horse  and  some  gold,  and  procured 
her  an  escort  for  her  contemplated  journey  to  the  king,  who  was 
then  at  a  distance  of  three  hundred  and  eighty  miles.  Attired 
as  a  man,  and  armed  with  a  sword,  a  dagger  and  a  lance,  she 
started  upon  her  journey,  accompanied  by  two  officers  and  two 
sokliers. 

On  the  6th  of  March,  1429,  after  a  perilous  journey  of 
eleven  days,  she  reached  the  royal  residence,  and  sent  in  to  the 
king  to  ask  an  audience.  Her  fame  had  preceded  her,  and  she 
was  considered  of  so  much  importance  that  the  king's  council 
deliberated  for  two  days  upon  the  question  whether  or  not  she 
should  be  dismissed  without  an  interview.  It  w^as  decided  to 
admit  her,  and  put  her  inspiration  to  the  test.  The  king  laid 
aside  his  royal  garments,  and  mingled  with  the  crowd  of  cour- 
tiers, several  of  whom  were  more  richly  clothed  than  himself; 
but,  upon  being  conducted  to  the  apartment,  the  maid  went 
Btraight  to  the  king,  fell  on  her  knees  before  him,  and  said  :  — 

"  Gentle  i  rince,  I  am  Jeanne  the  Virgin ;  the  King  of  Heaven 


590  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

sends  me  to  you ;  thi'ough  me  you  shall  be  crowned  and  anointed 
in  the  city  of  Reims ;  and  you  shall  be  the  vicegerent  of  God, 
which  is  to  be  King  of  France." 

The  king,  astonished  at  her  words  and  bearing,  took  her 
aside  and  conversed  with  her  for  some  time.  What  passed  be- 
tween them  has  been  variously  related ;  but  it  is  certain  that  she 
made  an  impression  upon  his  mind,  —  a  mind  natm'ally  weak 
and  eofeebled  by  vice  and  superstition.  Not  yet  convinced  of 
her  heavenly  mission,  he  caused  her  to  be  examined  by  his  coun- 
cil, and  by  learned  doctors  of  divinity.  They  subjected  her  to 
various  tests,  which  cannot  be  related  here.  A  whole  month 
was  consumed  by  this  investigation ;  at  the  end  of  which  the 
king  gave  her  a  military  command,  supplied  her  with  arms  and 
accoutrements,  and  assigned  her  a  retinue  of  two  pages,  two 
servants,  two  heralds,  and  a  commissary.  Attired  in  white  ar- 
mor, and  bearing  a  standard  covered  with  jf^ew^'^-cZe-^is  and  relig- 
ious emblems,  she  presented  herself  to  the  French  army,  then 
defending  the  great  city  of  Orleans  against  the  English. 

The  novelty  and  splendor  of  her  appearance,  the  fii*mnessand 
composure  of  her  "demeanor,  the  royal  commission  which  she 
held,  aided  by  the  universal  superstition  of  the  age,  drew  upon 
her  the  eyes  of  the  whole  army,  and  inspired  them  Avith  confi- 
dence in  the  reality  of  her  mission.  After  a  series  of  bloody 
and  desperate  conflicts,  in  which  she  displayed  the  greatest  valor 
and  audacity,  the  English  were  exhausted  and  abandoned  the 
siege.  She  continued  her  career  of  conquest  until  she  had  ful- 
filled her  promise,  and  the  king  was  crowned  at  Eeims  four 
months  after  his  first  interview  with  the  maid.  Resolved  never 
to  discontinue  the  struggle  as  long  as  there  was  an  enemy  upon 
the  soil  of  France,  she  fought  on  until  the  spring  of  the  follow- 
ing year,  when,  in  a  hotly  contested  action,  she  was  surrounded 
by  the  foe,  thrown  from  her  horse,  and  taken  prisoner. 

Upon  a  charge  brought  against  her  by  the  Inquisition  and 
seconded  by  the  servile  University  of  Paris  (then  in  posses- 
sion of  the  English),  she  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon,  to  await 
her  trial  for  heresy.  Twice,  by  her  tact  and  courage,  she  nearly 
succeeded  in  escaping.  Arraigned,  at  length,  before  the  priestly 
court,  she  was  accused  (if  seventy  distinct  ofiences,  the  chief  of 


JEANNE    DARC.  591 

which  were  that  slie  had  professed  to  receive  comm/iaicationa 
from  heaven,  Avhercas,  iii  reality,  she  had  only  invoked  tho 
devil ;  that  she  had  worn  men's  clothes  and  entered  the  army 
as  a  soldier  ;  that  her  religious  opinions  were  heretical,  and  that 
she  had  refused  to  submit  to  the  authority  of  the  church.  Ilcr 
demeanor,  during  the  long  mockery  of  a  trial  to  Avhich  she  was 
subjected,  was  calm  and  heroic  ;  but,  as  her  condemnation  was  a 
tlnng  resolved  upon,  nothing  availed,  —  she  was  condemned  and 
sentenced  to  be  burnt  alive,  unless  she  abjured  her  errors. 

In  these  terrible  circumstances,  the  w^oman,  for  a  moment, 
prevailed  over  the  heroine.  With  a  disdainful  smile  upon  her 
lips,  she  took  the  pen  in  her  hand  and  placed  at  the  bottom  of 
the  i^aper  of  abjuration  a  zero,  which  was  the  usual  mode  of  as- 
senting to  abjuration  by  persons  who  could  not  write.  She  was 
then  removed  to  her  cell,  and  condemned  to  remain  there  for 
the  rest  of  her  life  on  bread  and  water. 

As  one  of  the  principal  points  made  against  her  by  her  priest- 
ly accusers  was  that  she  had  w^orn  men's  clothes,  she  .had,  dur- 
ing her  trial,  resumed  the  garments  of  her  own  sex.  On  tho 
third  day  after  her  return  to  the  prison,  on  getting  up  in  the 
morning,  she  discovered  that  her  female  dress  had  been  taken 
away  and  her  men's  clothes  placed  in  a  sack  at  the  foot  of  her 
bed.  She  was  therefore  compelled,  against  her  will,  to  resume 
her  former  costume.  A  priest  who  had  been  foremost  in  her 
prosecution  visited  her  cell  that  day,  and  taunted  her  wuth  hav- 
ing relapsed  into  the  damnable  errors  for  which  she  had  been 
tried.  At  this  outrage,  her  human  indignation  came  to  the  res- 
cue of  her  religious  faith.  She  retracted  her  abjuration,  and 
declared  to  the  malignant  priest  that  she  had  recanted  in  a  mo- 
ment of  womanly  weakness,  and  that  she  was  indeed  an  instru- 
ment in  the  hands  of  God  for  the  deliverance  of  France.  The 
next  day  the  court  reassembled,  and  the  original  sentence  was 
again  pronounced.     She  was  then  nineteen  years  of  age. 

'WTien  this  fearful  news  was  brought  to  her,  she  again  expe- 
rienced a  moment  of  weakness  and  burst  into  tears. 

"Oh,"  cried  she,  sobbing,  "are  they  so  cruel  that  this  body 
of  mine,  entire  and  uncorrupt,  must  be  to-day  consumed  to 
ashes  ?  " 


592  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

She  soon  recovered  her  composure,  and  jomed  with  calmness 
and  devotion  in  the  rites  appointed  by  her  church  for  the  dying. 
Eight  hundred  English  troops  escorted  her  to  the  place  of  exe- 
cution. She  was  placed  upon  a  lofty  platform  of  masonry,  in 
the  midst  of  which  there  was  a  post  covered  with  cement,  sur- 
rounded with  a  great  mass  of  fagots.  Behind  the  stake  a 
placard  was  set  up,  upon  which  was  written  in  large  letters  :  — 

"  Jeanne,  who  has  named  herself  the  virgin.     A  liar, 

A  pernicious  PERSON,  AN  ABUSER  OF  THE  PEOPLE,  A  SORCERESS, 

slterstitious,  a  blasphemer  of  god,  a  denier  of  the  gos- 
pel OF  JESUS  CHRIST,  A  BOASTER,  AN  IDOLATER,  CRUEL,  DISSO- 
LUTE, AN  INVOKER  OF  DEVILS,  A  SCHISMATIC  AND   HERETIC." 

On  her  head  was  a  mitre,  and  upon  this  was  written  :  — 
"Heretic,  relapsed,  apostate,  idolater." 

When  she  had  been  chained  to  the  stake,  the  executioner  set 
the  wood  on  fire  at  the  lowest  part  of  the  pile,  so  that  she  en- 
dured long  and  severe  agony  before  the  flames  reached  her 
person ;  during  which,  however,  she  occasionally  conversed  in 
a  religious  strain  with  two  friendly  priests.  Some  of  the  spec- 
tators, it  is  said,  laughed  at  her  anguish,  but  the  greater  part 
of  the  crowd  were  dissolved  in  tears.  When  the  flames  at  length 
reached  her  garments,  and  wrapped  her  in  a  garment  of  fire, 
she  uttered  only  the  name  of  Jesus  ;  and  with  that  name  upon 
her  lips,  her  head  fell  forward  and  she  expired. 

It  is  impossible,  in  the  short  compass  of  an  article  like  this,  to 
give  anything  more  than  an  outline  of  the  career  of  this  mar- 
tyr to  her  country.  There  is  no  doubt  that,  in  common  with  all 
mankind  at  that  period,  this  heroine  was  ignorant  and  super- 
stitious. It  is  plain,  however,  from  the  documents  recently 
brought  to  light,  that  she  was  a  pure  and  high-minded  being, 
who  fully  believed  herself  to  be  the  chosen  instrument  of  Heaven, 
and  that  she  performed  what  she  conceived  to  be  her  duty  with 
a  courage  and  devotion  with  entitle  her  to  the  homage  of  pos 
terity. 


THE    WIFE    OF    ANDREW     JACKSON.  ^9.1 


THE   WIFE    OF   ANDREW   JACKSON. 


-•o*- 


Eachel  Doxelson  was  the  maiden  name  of  General  Jack- 
son's wife.  She  was  born  in  Virginia,  in  the  year  17G7,  and 
lived  in  Virginia  until  she  was  eleven  years  of  age.  Her  father, 
Colonel  John  Donelson,  was  a  planter  and  land  surve^^or,  who 
possessed  considerable  wealth  in  land,  cattle,  and  slaves.  He 
was  one  of  those  hardy  pioneers  who  were  never  content  unless 
they  were  living  away  out  in  the  woods,  beyond  the  verge  of 
civilization.  Accordingly,  in  1779,  we  find  him  near  the  head- 
waters of  the  Tennessee  River,  with  all  his  family,  bound  for 
the  western  parts  of  Tennessee,  with  a  river  voyage  of  two 
thousand  miles  before  him. 

Seldom  has  a  little  girl  of  eleven  years  shared  in  so  perilous 
an  adventure.  The  party  started  in  the  depth  of  a  severe  win- 
ter, and  battled  for  two  months  with  the  ice  before  it  had  fairly 
begun  the  descent  of  the  Tennessee.  But,  in  the  spring,  accom 
panied  by  a  considerable  fleet  of  boats,  the  craft  occupied  by 
John  Donelson  and  his  family  floated  down  the  winding  stream 
more  rapidly.  Many  misfortunes  befell  them.  Sometimes  a 
boat  would  aet  ao^round  and  remain  immovable  till  its  whole 
cariro  was  landed.  Sometimes  a  boat  was  dashed  aijainst  a 
projectmg  point  and  sunk.  One  man  died  of  his  frozen 
feet ;  two  children  were  born.  On  board  one  boat,  containing 
twenty-eight  persons,  the  small-pox  raged.  As  this  boatalwaj's 
sailed  at  a  certain  distance  behind  the  rest,  it  was  attacked  by 
Indians,  Avho  captured  it,  killed  all  the  men,  and  carried  oft' the 
women  and  chiklren.  The  Indians  caught  the  small-pox,  of 
which  some  hundreds  died  in  the  course  of  the  season. 

But  during  this  voyage,  which  lasted  several  months,  no  mis- 
fortune befell  the  boat  of  Colonel  Donelson ;  and  he  and  his 

38 


594  PEOPLE'S    BOOK     OE    BIOGEAPHY. 

family,  inclucliiig  his  daughter  Kachel,  arrived  safely  at  the  site 
of  the  present  city  of  Nashville,  near  which  he  selected  his  land, 
built  his  los:  house,  and  established  himself.  Never  has  a  set- 
tlement  been  so  infested  with  hostile  Indians  as  this.  When 
Rachel  Donelson,  with  her  sisters  and  young  friends,  went 
blackberry ing,  a  guard  of  young  men,  with  their  rifles  loaded 
and  cocked,  stood  guard  over  the  surrounding  thickets  Avhile 
the  girls  picked  the  fruit.  It  was  not  safe  for  a  man  to  stoop 
over  a  spring  to  drink  unless  some  one  else  was  on  the  watch 
with  his  rifle  in  his  arms ;  and  when  half  a  dozen  men  stood 
together,  in  conversation,  they  turned  their  backs  to  each  other, 
all  facing  diflferent  ways,  to  watch  for  a  lurking  savage. 

So  the  Donelsons  lived  for  eight  years,  and  gathered  about 
them  more  negroes,  more  cattle,  and  more  horses  than  any  other 
household  in  the  settlement.  During  one  of  the  long  winters, 
when  a  great  tide  of  emigration  had  reduced  the  stock  of  corn, 
and  threatened  the  neighborhood  with  famine.  Colonel  Donelson 
moved  to  Kentucky  with  all  his  family  and  dependehts,  and 
there  lived  until  the  corn  crop  at  Nashville  was  gathered.  Ra- 
chel, by  this  time,  had  grown  to  be  a  beautiful  and  vigorous 
young  lady,  well  skilled  in  all  the  arts  of  the  back-woods,  and 
a  remarkably  bold  and  graceful  rider.  She  was  a  plump  little 
damsel,  with  the  blackest  hair  and  eyes,  and  of  a  very  cheerful 
and  friendly  disposition.  During  the  temporary  residence  of 
her  father  in  Kentucky  she  gave  her  hand  and  heart  to  one 
Lewis  Robards,  and  her  father  returned  to  Nashville  without 
her. 

Colonel  Donelson  soon  after,  w^hile  in  the  woods  surveying 
far  from  his  home,  fell  by  the  hand  of  an  assassin.  He  was 
found  pierced  by  bullets  ;  but  whether  they  were  fired  by  red 
savages  or  by  white  was  never  known.  To  comfort  her  mother 
in  her  loneliness,  Rachel  and  her  husband  came  to  Nashville 
and  lived  with  her,  intending,  as  soon  as  the  Indians  were  sub- 
dued, to  occupy  a  farm  of  their  own. 

In  the  year  1788,  Andrew  Jackson,  a  young  lawyer  from 
North  Carolina,  arrived  at  Nashville  to  enter  i:ipo'^  the  practice 
of  his  profession,  and  went  to  board  with  Mrfc.  Doaelf^un.  He 
soon  discovered  that  Mrs  Rachel  Robards  Iv/f  d  nost  unhappily 


THE    WIFE    OF    ANDREW    JACKSON.  595 

"with  her  husband,  who  was  a  man  of  violont  temper  and  most 
jealous  disposition.  Young  Jackson  had  not  long  resided  in 
the  family  before  Mr.  Robards  began  to  be  jealous  of  hitn,  and 
many  violent  scenes  took  place  between  them.  The  jealous 
Robards  at  length  abandoned  his  wife,  and  went  off  to  his  old 
home  in  Kentucky,  leaving  Jackson  master  of  the  field. 

A  rumor  soon  after  reached  the  place  that  Robards  had  pro« 
cured  a  divorce  from  his  wife  in  the  le^fislaturc  of  Vir":inia : 
soon  after  which  Andrew  Jackson  and  Rachel  Donelson  were 
married.  The  rumor  proved  to  be  false,  and  they  lived  together 
for  two  years  before  a  divorce  was  really  granted,  at  the  end  of 
which  time  they  were  married  again.  This  marriage,  though 
60  inauspiciously  begun,  was  an  eminently  happy  one,  although, 
out  of  doors,  it  caused  the  irascible  Jackson  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.  The  peculiar  circumstances  attending  the  marriage 
caused  many  calumnies  to  be  uttered  and  printed  respecting 
Mrs.  Jackson,  and  some  of  the  bitterest  quarrels  which  th© 
general  ever  had,  had  their  origin  in  them. 

At  home,  however,  he  w^as  one  of  the  happiest  of  men.  Ilia 
wife  was  an  excellent  manas^er  of  a  household  and  a  kind  mis- 
tress  of  slaves.  She  had  a  remarkable  memory,  and  delighted 
to  relate  anecdotes  and  tales  of  the  early  settlement  of  the 
country.  Daniel  Boone  had  been  one  of  her  feather's  friends, 
and  she  used  to  recount  his  adventures  and  escapes.  Her  abode 
was  a  seat  of  hospitality,  and  she  well  knew  how  to  make  her 
guests  feel  at  home.  It  used  to  be  said  in  Tennessee  that  sho 
could  not  w^rite ;  but,  as  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  reading 
nine  letters  in  her  own  handwriting,  one  of  wdiich  was  eight 
pages  long,  I  presume  I  have  a  right  to  deny  the  imputation. 
It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  the  spelling  was  exceed- 
ingly bad,  and  that  the  writing  was  so  much  worse  as  to 
be  nearly  illegible.  If  she  was  ignorant  of  books,  she  was 
most  learned  in  the  lore  of  the  forest,  the  dairy,  the  kitchen, 
and  the  farm.  I  remember  walking  about  a  remarkably  lino 
spring  that  gushed  from  the  earth  near  where  her  dairy  stood, 
and  hearing  one  of  her  colored  servants  say  that  there  was 
nothing  upon  the  estate  which  she  valued  so  much  as  that 
spring.     She  grew  to  be  a  stout  woman,  which  made  her  appear 


596  PEOPLE'S      BOOK      OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

shorter  tlian  she  really  was.  Her  husband,  on  the  contrary, 
was  remarkably  tall  and  slender ;  so  that  when  they  danced  a 
reel  together,  which  they  often  did,  with  all  the  vigor  of  the 
olden  time,  the  spectacle  was  extremely  curious. 

It  was  a  great  grief  to  both  husband  and  wife  that  they  had 
no  children,  and  it  was  to  supply  this  want  in  their  household 
that  they  ado^Dted  one  of  Mrs.  Donelson's  nephews,  and  named 
him  Andrew  Jackson.  This  boy  was  the  delight  of  them  both 
as  long  as  they  lived. 

Colonel  Benton,  who  knew  Mrs.  Jackson  well  and  long, 
has  recorded  his  opinion  of  her  in  the  following  forcible  lau- 
o^uasfe  :  — 

"A  more  exemplary  woman  in  all  the  relations  of  life  —  wife, 
friend,  neighbor,  relation,  mistress  of  slaves  —  never  lived,  and 
never  presented  a  more  quiet,  cheerful,  and  admirable  manage- 
ment of  her  household.  She  had  the  general's  own  warm  heart, 
frank  manners,  and  admirable  temper ;  and  no  two  persons 
could  have  been  better  suited  to  each  other,  lived  more  happily 
tosfcther,  or  made  a  house  more  attractive  to  visitors.  No  bash- 
ful  youth  or  plain  old  man,  whose  modesty  sat  them  down  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  table,  could  escape  her  cordial  attention,  any 
more  than  the  titled  gentlemen  at  her  right  and  left.  Young  per- 
sons were  her  delight,  and  she  always  had  her  house  filled  with 
them,  all  calling  her  affectionately  *  Aunt  Eachel.'" 

In  the  homely  fashion  of  the  time,  she  used  to  join  her  hus- 
band and  guests  in  smoking  a  pipe  after  dinner  and  in  the 
evening.  There  are  now  living  many  persons  who  well  remem- 
ber seeing  her  smoking  by  her  fireside  a  long  reed  pipe. 

When  General  Jackson  went  forth  to  fight  in  the  war  of  1812, 
he  was  still  living  in  a  log  house  of  four  rooms  ;  and  this  house  is 
now  standijig  on  his  beautiful  farm  ten  miles  from  Nashville. 
I  used  to  wonder,  when  walking  about  it,  how  it  was  possible 
for  Mrs.  Jackson  to  accommodate  so  many  guests  as  we  know 
she  did.  But  a  hospitable  house,  like  a  Third- Avenue  car,  is 
never  full,  and  in  that  mild  climate  the  young  men  could  sleep 
on  the  piazza  or  in  the  corn-crib,  content  if  their  mothers  and 
sisters  had  the  shelter  of  the  house.  It  was  not  until  lone:  after 
the  general's  return  from  the  wars  that  he  built,  or  could  afford 


THE    WIFE    OF    ANDREW    JACKSON.  597 

to  build,  the  larcfc  brick  mansion  wliich  lie  named  llio  "ITormit- 
age."  The  visitor  may  still  seo  in  that  commodious  house  the 
bed  on  ^vhich  this  ha[)py  pair  sl('i)t  and  died,  the  furnitun;  they 
used,  and  the  pictures  upon  which  they  were  accustomed  to 
look.  In  the  hall  of  the  second  story  there  is  slill  prcservc-d 
the  huire  chest  in  wdiich  "Mrs.  Jackson  used  to  stow  awav  the 
woollen  clothes  of  the  family  in  the  summer,  to  keep  them  from 
the  moths.  Around  the  house  are  the  remains  of  the  fine  gar- 
den of  which  she  used  to  be  so  proud,  and,  a  little  beyond,  are 
the  cabins  of  the  hundred  and  fifty  shives  to  whom  she  was 
more  a  mother  than  a  mistress. 

A  few  weeks  after  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  when  her  hus- 
band was  in  the  first  flush  of  his  triumph,  this  plain  planter's 
wife  floated  down  the  INIississippi  to  Xew  Orleans  to  visit  her 
husband  and  to  accompany  him  home.  She  had  never  seen  a 
city  before,  for  Nashville,  at  that  day,  was  little  more  than  a 
village.  The  elegant  ladies  of  New  Orleans  were  exceedingly 
pleased  to  observe  that  GeneralJackson,  though  he  was  himself 
one  of  the  most  graceful  and  polite  of  gentlemen,  seemed  to- 
tally unconscious  of  the  homely  bearing,  the  countr}^  manners, 
and  awkward  dress  of  his  w^ife.  In  all  companies  and  on  all 
occasions  he  showed  her  every  possible  mark  of  respect.  The 
ladies  gathered  about  her  and  presented  her  with  all  sorts  of 
showy  knick-knacks  and  jewelry,  and  one  of  them  undertook  the 
task  of  selecting  suitable  clothes  for  her.  She  frankly  con- 
fessed that  she  knew  nothing  about  such  things,  and  was  willing 
to  wear  anything  that  the  ladies  thought  proper.  Much  as  she 
enjoyed  her  visit,  I  am  sure  she  was  glad  enough  to  return  to 
her  old  home  on  the  banks  of  the  Cumberland  and  resume  her 
oversight  of  the  dairy  and  the  plantation. 

Soon  after  the  peace,  a  remarkable  change  came  over  the 
spirit  of  this  excellent  woman.  Parson  Blackburn,  as  the  gen- 
eral always  called  him,  was  a  favorite  preacher  in  that  part  of 
Tennessee,  and  his  sermons  made  sd  powerful  an  impression 
upon  Mrs.  Jackson  that  she  joined  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
and  w^as  ever  after  devotedly  religious.  The  general  himself 
was  almost  persuaded  to  follow  her  example.  He  did  not,  how- 
ever ;  but  he  testified  his  sympathy  with  his  wife's  feelings  by 


598  PEOPLE'S     BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

building  a  church  for  her  —  a  curious  little  brick  edifice  —  on 
his  oA\'n  form  ;  the  smallest  church,  I  suppose,  in  the  United 
States.  Of  all  the  churches  I  ever  saw,  this  is  the  plainest  and 
simplest  in  its  construction.  It  looks  like  a  very  small  school- 
house  ;  it  has  no  steeple,  no  portico,  and  but  one  door;  and  the 
interior,  which  contains  forty  little  peAvs,  is  unpainted,  and  the 
floor  is  of  brick.  On  Sundays,  the  congregation  consisted 
chiefly  of  the  general,  his  family,  and  half  a  dozen  neighbors, 
with  as  many  negroes  as  the  house  would  hold,  and  could  see 
through  the  windows.  It  was  just  after  the  completion  of  this 
church  that  General  Jackson  made  his  famous  reply  to  a  young 
man  who  objected  to  the  doctrine  of  future  punishment. 

"I  thank  God,"  said  this  youth,  "I  have  too  much  good  sense 
to  believe  there  is  such  a  place  as  hell." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  General  Jackson,  "/thank  God  there /s 
such  a  place." 

"Why,  general,"  asked  the  3'oung  man,  "what  do  you  want 
with  such  a  place  of  torment  as  hell?" 

To  which  the  general  replied,  as  quick  as  lightning  :  — 

"  To  put  such  rascals  as  you  are  in,  that  oppose  and  vilify 
the  Christian  relisfion." 

The  young  man  said  no  more,  and  soon  after  found  it  con- 
venient to  take  his  leave. 

Mrs.  Jackson  did  not  live  to  see  her  husband  President  of  the 
United  States,  thoui^h  she  lived  lonsr  enous^h  to  know  that  he 
was  elected  to  that  office.  When  the  news  was  brous^ht  to  her 
of  her  husband's  election,  in  December,  1828,  she  quietly 
said :  — 

"  Well,  for  Mr.  Jackson's  sake  "  (she  always  called  him  Mr. 
Jackson) ,  "  I  am  glad  ;  for  my  own  part,  I  never  wished  it." 

The  people  of  Nashville,  proud  of  the  success  of  their  favor- 
ite, resolved  to  celebrate  the  event  by  a  great  banquet  on  the 
22d  of  December,  the  anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  the 
general  had  flrst  defeated  the  British  below  New  Orleans  ;  and 
some  of  the  ladies  of  Nashville  were  secretly  preparing  a  mag- 
nificent wardrobe  for  the  future  mistress  of  the  White  House. 
Six  days  before  the  day  appointed  for  the  celebration,  Mrs. 
Jackson,  while  busied  about  her  household  afiairs  in  the  kitchen 


THE    WIFE    OF    ANDREW    JACKSON.  509 

of  the  Ilcrniitago,  siKldonly  slirickcd,  placed  licr  liands  upon 
her  heart,  sank  upon  a  chair,  and  fell  forward  into  the  arms  of 
one  of  her  servants.  She  -was  carried  to  her  bed,  where,  for 
the  space  of  sixty  hours,  she  suflered  extreme  agony,  durin^" 
the  whole  of  which  her  husband  never  left  her  side  for  ten 
minutes.  Then  she  appeared  much  better,  and  recovered  the 
use  of  her  tongue.  This  was  only  two  da3's  before  the  day  of 
the  festival,  and  the  first  use  she  made  of  her  recovered  speech 
was,  to  implore  her  exhausted  husband  to  go  to  another  room 
and  sleep,  so  as  to  recruit  his  strength  for  the  banquet.  He 
would  not  leave  her,  however,  but  lay  down  upon  a  sofa  and 
slept  a  little.  The  evening  of  the  22d  she  appeared  to  be  so 
much  better  that  the  general  consented,  after  much  persuasii)n, 
to  sleep  in  the  next  room,  and  leave  his  wife  in  the  care  of  tlie 
doctor  and  two  of  his  most  trusted  servants. 

At  nine  o'clock  he  bade  her  good-night,  went  into  the  next 
room,  and  took  off  his  coat,  preparatory  to  lying  down.  AMien 
he  had  been  gone  five  minutes  from  her  room,  ^Mrs.  Jackson, 
who  was  sitting  up,  suddenly  gave  a  long,  loud,  inarticulate 
cry,  which  was  immediately  followed  by  the  death-rattle  in  her 
throat.  By  the  time  her  husband  had  reached  her  side  she  had 
breathed  her  last. 

"  Bleed  her,"  cried  the  general. 

But  no  blood  flowed  from  her  arm. 

"Try  the  temple,  doctor." 

A  drop  or  two  of  blood  stained  her  cap,  but  no  more  followed. 
Still,  it  was  long  before  he  would  believe  her  dead,  and  when 
there  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt,  and  they  were  preparing 
a  table  upon  which  to  lay  her  out,  he  cried,  with  a  choking 
voice  :  — 

"  Spread  four  blankets  upon  it ;  for  if  she  does  come  to  sho 
will  lie  so  hard  upon  the  table." 

All  night  long  he  sat  in  the  room,  occasionally  looking  into 
her  face,  and  feeling  if  there  was  any  pulsation  in  her  heart. 
The  next  morning,  when  one  of  his  friends  arrived  just  beforo 
daylight,  he  was  nearly  speechless  and  utterly  inconsolable, 
looking  twenty  years  older. 

There  was  no  banquet  that  day  in  Nashville.     On  the  morn 


600  PEOPLE'S    BOOK     OF     BIOGRAPHY. 

ing  of  the  funeral,  the  grounds  were  crowded  with  people,  who 
saw,  with  emotion,  the  poor  old  general  supported  to  the  grave 
between  two  of  his  old  friends,  scarcely  able  to  stand.  The 
remains  were  interred  in  the  garden  of  the  Hermitage,  in  a 
tomb  which  the  general  had  recently  completed.  The  tablet 
w^hich  covers  her  dust  contains  the  following  inscription  ;  — 

"Here  lie  the  remains  of  Mrs.  Rachel  Jackson,  wife  of  Pres- 
ident Jackson,  who  died  the  22d  of  December,  1828,  aged  61. 
Her  face  was  fair,  her  person  pleasing,  her  temper  amiable,  her 
heart  kind  ;  she  delighted  in  relieving  the  wants  of  her  fellow- 
creatures,  and  cultivated  that  divine  pleasure  by  the  most  liberal 
and  unpretending  methods  ;  to  the  poor  she  was  a  benefactor ; 
to  the  rich  an  example ;  to  the  wretched  a  comforter ;  to  the 
prosperous  an  ornament ;  her  piety  went  hand  in  hand  with  her 
benevolence,  and  she  thanked  her  Creator  for  being  permitted 
to  do  good.  A  being  so  gentle  and  so  virtuous,  slander  might 
wound  but  not  dishonor.  Even  death,  when  he  tore  her  from 
the  arms  of  her  husband,  could  but  transport  her  to  the  bosom 
of  her  God." 

Andrew  Jackson  was  never  the  same  man  as^aiu.  Durinsr  his 
presidency,  he  never  used  the  phrase :  "  By  the  Eternal,"  nor 
any  other  language  which  could  be  considered  profane.  He 
mourned  his  wife  until  he  himself  rejoined  her  in  the  tomb  he 
had  prepared  for  them  both. 


MKS.    SIGOUUNEY.  GOl 


MRS.    SIGOURNEY. 


-•o*- 


"  A  BEAUTIFUL  life  I  liavc  had.  Not  one  more  trial  tlian  was 
for  my  good.  Countless  blessings  beyond  expeetalion  (n-  desert. 
Behind  mc  stretch  the  green  pastures  and  still  waters  ])y 
which  I  have  been  led  all  my  days.  Around  is  the  lingering  of 
hardy  flowers  and  fruits  that  bide  the  winter.  Before  stretches 
the  shining  shore." 

These  are  Mrs.  Sigourney's  words,  written  near  the  close  of 
a  life  of  sevent^^-four  3'ears.  All  who  have  much  observed 
human  life  will  as^ree  that  the  rarest  achievement  of  man  or 
woman  on  this  earth  is  a  solid  and  continuous  happiness.  There 
are  very  few  persons  past  seventy  who  can  cahiily  look  back  upon 
their  lives,  and  sincerely  say  that  they  would  willingly  live  their 
lives  over  again,  Mrs.  Sigourney,  however,  was  one  of  this 
happy  few. 

She  was  born  at  Norwich,  Connecticut,  on  the  first  of  Sep- 
tember, 1791.  Her  father  was  Ezekiel  Huntlcv,  an  exceedinalv 
gentle,  afi*ectionate  man,  of  Scotch  parentage,  who  had  as  little 
of  the  Yankee  in  him  as  any  man  in  Connecticut.  Unlike  a 
Yankee,  he  never  attempted  to  set  up  in  business  for  himself, 
but  spent  the  whole  of  the  active  part  of  his  life  in  the  service 
of  the  man  to  whom  he  was  apprenticed  in  his  youth.  His 
employer  w^as  a  druggist  of  great  note  in  his  day,  who  made  a 
large  fortune  in  his  business,  and  built  one  of  the  most  elegant 
houses  in  the  State.  On  his  retirement  from  business,  his  old 
clerk  continued  to  reside  under  his  roof,  and  to  assist  in  the 
management  of  his  estate;  and,  even  when  he  died,  ^Iv.  Hunt- 
ley did  not  change  his  abode,  but  remained  to  conduct  the 
alfairs  of  the  widow.  In  the  service  of  this  family  he  saved  a 
competence  for  his  old  age,  and  ho  lived  to  eighty -seven,  a 


602  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

most  happy,  serene  old  man,  delighting  chiefly  in  his  garden 
and  his  only  child.     He  survived  as  late  as  1839. 

Owing  to  the  peculiar  relations  sustained  by  her  father  to  a 
wealthy  family,  — living,  too,  in  a  wing  of  their  stately  mansion, 
and  having  the  free  range  of  its  extensive  gardens, — Lydia 
Huntley  enjoyed  in  her  youth  all  the  substantial  advantages  of 
wealth,  without  encountering  its  perils.  She  was  surrounded 
hy  objects  pleasing  or  beautiful,  but  no  menial  pampered  her 
pride  or  robbed  her  of  her  rightful  share  of  household  labor. 
As  soon  as  she  was  old  enough  to  toddle  about  the  grounds,  her 
father  delighted  to  have  her  hold  the  trees  which  he  was  plant- 
ing, and  drop  the  seed  into  the  little  furrow^  prepared  for  it,  and 
never  was  she  better  pleased  than  when  giving  him  the  aid  of 
her  tiny  fingers.  Her  parents  never  kept  a  servant,  and  she 
was  brought  up  to  do  her  part  in  the  house.  Living  on  plain, 
substantial  fare,  inured  to  labor,  and  dressed  so  as  to  allow  free 
play  to  every  limb  and  muscle,  she  laid  in  a  stock  of  health, 
strength,  and  good  temper  that  lasted  her  down  to  the  last  year 
of  her  life.  She  never  knew  what  dyspepsia  was.  She  never 
possessed  a  costly  toy,  nor  a  doll  that  was  not  made  at  home, 
but  she  passed  a  childhood  that  w^as  scarcely  anything  but  joy. 
She  was  an  only  child,  and  she  w^as  the  pet  of  two  families,  yet 
was  not  spoiled. 

She  was  one  of  those  children  who  take  naturally  to  all  kinds 
of  culture.  Without  ever  having  had  a  child's  book,  she  sought 
out,  in  the  old-fashioned  library  of  the  house,  everything  w^hich 
a  child  could  understand.  Chance  threw  a  novel  in  her  way 
(Mysteries  of  Udolpho),  w^iich  she  devoured  with  rapture,  and 
soon  after,  when  she  ^vas  but  eight  3^ears  of  age,  she  began  to 
write  a  novel.  Poetry,  too,  she  read  with  singular  pleasure, 
never  weary  of  repeating  her  favorite  pieces.  But  the  passion 
of  her  childhood  w^as  painting  pictures.  Almost  in  her  infancy 
she  began  to  draw  with  a  pin  and  lilac-leaf,  and  advanced  from 
that  to  slate  and  pencil,  and,  by  and  by,  to  a  lead  pencil  and 
backs  of  letters.  When  she  had  learned  to  draw  pretty  well, 
she  was  on  fire  to  paint  her  pictures,  but  was  long  puzzled  to 
procure  the  colors.  Having  obtained  in  some  w^ay  a  cake  of 
gamboge,  she  begged  of  a  washerwoman  a  piece  of  indigo,  and 


MRS.     SIGOURNEY.  (]03 

by  combining  these  two  ingredients  she  could  mrdvc  diir<'rent 
shades  of  3'ellow,  bhie,  and  green.  The  trunks  of  her  trees  she 
painted  with  eolfee-grounds,  and  a  mixture  of  India  ink  and 
indigo  answered  tolerably  for  sky  and  water.  She  after- 
wards discovered  that  the  pink  juice  of  the  skokeberry  did 
very  well  for  lips,  checks,  and  gay  dresses.  Mixed  with  a  little 
iudigo,  it  made  a  very  bad  purple,  which  the  young  artist,  fur 
want  of  a  better,  was  obliged  to  use  for  her  royal  robes.  In 
sore  distress  for  a  better  purple,  she  squeezed  the  ])urplc  flowers 
of  the  garden  and  the  Held  for  the  desired  tint,  but  nothing 
answered  the  purpose,  until,  at  dimier  one  day,  she  found  the 
very  hue  for  which  she  longed  in  the  juice  of  a  currant-and- 
"whortleberry  tart.  She  hastened  to  try  it,  and  it  made  a  truly 
gorgeous  purple,  but  the  sugar  in  it  caused  it  to  come  off  in 
flakes  from  her  kings  and  emperors,  leaving  them  in  a  sorry 
plight.  At  length,  to  her  boundless,  inexpressible,  and  lasting 
joy,  all  her  difficulties  were  removed  by  her  father's  giving  her 
a  complete  box  of  colors. 

At  school  she  was  fortunate  in  her  teachers.  One  of 
them  w\as  the  late  Pelatiah  Perit,  who  afterwards  wcm  hiirh 
distinction  as  a  New  York  merchant  and  universal  philan- 
thropist. Her  first  serious  attempts  at  poetical  composition 
were  translations  from  Virgil,  when  she  was  fourteen  Acars  of 
aire.  After  leavins:  school,  she  studied  Latin  with  much  zeal 
under  an  aged  tutor,  and,  later  in  life,  she  advanced  far  enough 
in  Hebrew  to  read  the  Old  Testament  with  the  aid  of  gram- 
mar and  dictionary.  To  these  grave  studies  her  parents  were 
sufficiently  enlightened  to  add  a  thorough  drill  in  dancing. 
Often,  when  her  excellent  mother  observed  that  she  had  sat  too 
long  over  her  books,  she  would  get  her  out  upon  the  floor  of 
their  large  kitchen,  and  then,  striking  up  a  lively  song,  set  her 
dancing  until  her  cheeks  were  all  aglow. 

This  studious  and  happy  girl,  like  all  other  young  people, 
had  her  day-dream  of  the  future.  It  icas  to  I'eej)  ci  scJiool! 
This  strange  ambition,  she  tells  us  in  her  Autobii)graphy,  she 
feared  to  impart  to  her  companions  lest  they  should  laugh  at 
her ;  and  she  thought  even  her  parents  would  think  her  arro- 
gant  if  she  mentioned  it  to  them.     The  long-cherished  secret 


604  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OE    BIOGRAPHY. 

was  revealed  to  her  parents  at  length.  Her  mother  had  guessed 
it  before,  but  her  father  was  exceedingly  surprised  ;  neither  of 
them,  however,  made  any  objection,  and  one  of  the  pleasantest 
apartments  of  their  house  was  fitted  np  for  the  reception  of 
pupils.  She  was  then  a  delicate-looking  girl  of  about  eighteen, 
and  rather  undersized.  As  soon  as  her  desks  were  brousfht 
home  by  the  carpenter,  the  ambitious  little  lady  went  round  to 
the  families  of  the  place,  informed  them  of  her  intention,  and 
solicited  their  patronage,  at  the  established  rate  of  three  dollars 
a  quarter  for  each  pupil.  She  Avas  disappointed  and  puzzled  at 
the  coldness  with  which  her  project  was  received.  Day  after 
day  she  tramped  the  streets  of  Norwich,  only  to  return  at  night 
without  a  name  upon  her  catalogue.  She  surmised,  after  a 
time,  that  parents  hesitated  to  entrust  their  children  to  her 
because  of  her  extreme  3'outh  ;  which  was  the  fact.  At  length, 
however,  she  began  her  school  w4th  two  children,  nine  and 
eleven  years  of  age ;  and  not  only  did  she  go  through  all  the 
formalities  of  a  school  with  them,  working  six  hours  a  day  for 
^VG  days  and  three  hours  on  Saturday,  but  at  the  end  of  the  term 
she  held  an  examination  in  the  presence  of  a  large  circle  of  her 
pupils'  admiring  relations. 

Afterwards,  associating  herself  with  another  young  lady,  to 
whom  she  was  tenderly  attached,  she  succeeded  better.  A  large 
and  popular  school  gathered  about  these  zealous  and  admirable 
girls,  —  several  of  their  pupils  being  older  than  themselves. 
Compelled  to  hold  the  school  in  a  larger  room,  L^xlia  Huntley 
walked  two  miles  every  morning  and  two  more  at  night,  besides 
working  hard  all  day ;  and  she  was  as  happy  as  the  weeks  were 
long.  Her  experience  confirms  that  of  every  genuine  teacher  — 
from  Dr.  Arnold  downwards  —  that,  of  all  the  emplo^^ments  of 
man  or  w^oman  on  this  earth,  the  one  which  is  capable  of  giving 
the  most  constant  and  intense  happiness,  is  teaching  in  a  ration- 
ally conducted  school.  So  fond  w^as  she  of  teaching,  that  when 
the  severity  of  the  winter  obliged  her  to  suspend  the  school  for 
many  weeks,  she  opened  a  free  school  for  poor  cliildren,  one  of 
her  favorite  classes  in  which  was  composed  of  colored  girls. 

In  the  course  of  time,  the  well-know^n  Daniel  Wadsworth,  the 
great  man  of  Hartford  fifty  years  ago,  lured  her  away  to  that 


MRS.     SIGOURNEY.  G05 

City,  where  he  personally  organized  f(jr  her  a  school  of  ilmiy 
young  hidies,  the  daughters  of  his  friends,  and  gave  her  a  homo 
in  his  own  house.  There  she  spent  five  happy  years,  cherished 
as  a  daughter  by  her  venerable  patron  and  his  wife,  and  held  iu 
high  honor  by  her  pupils  and  their  parents. 

It  was  in  1815,  while  residing  in  Hartford,  that  her  fame  was 
born.  Good  old  Mrs.  Wadsworth  havinj]:  oljtained  a  siirht  of 
her  journals  and  manuscripts,  in  prose  and  verse,  the  secret  ac- 
cumulation of  many  years,  inflamed  her  husband's  curiosity  so 
that  he  too  asked  to  see  them.  The  ])lushing  poetess  consented. 
Mr.  Wadsworth  pronounced  some  of  them  worthy  of  publica- 
tion, and,  under  his  auspices,  a  volume  was  printed  in  Hartford, 
entitled,  "Moral  Pieces  in  Prose  and  Yerse."  The  public  gave 
it  a  generous  welcome,  and  its  success  led  to  a  career  of  author- 
ship that  lasted  forty-nine  years,  and  gave  to  the  world  filty-six 
volumes  of  poetry,  talcs,  travels,  biography,  and  letters. 

So  passed  her  life  till  she  was  past  twenty-eight.  She  had 
received  offers  of  marriage  from  clergymen  and  others,  but  none 
of  her  suitors  tempted  her  to  forsake  her  pupils ;  and  she  sup- 
posed herself  destined  to  spend  her  days  as  an  old  maid.  But 
another  destiny  w^as  iu  store  for  her.  On  her  way  to  and  from 
her  school,  "  a  pair  of  deep-set  and  most  expressive  black  eyes  " 
sometimes  encountered  hers,  and  spoke  "unutterable  things." 
Those  eyes  belonged  to  a  widower,  with  three  children,  named 
Charles  Sigourney,  a  thriving  hardware  merchant  of  French 
descent,  and  those  "unutterable  thinsfs  "  were  uttered  at  lens^th, 
throus^h  the  unromantic  medium  of  a  letter.  The  marria2:e 
occurred  a  few  months  after,  iu  the  year  1819. 

For  the  next  fifteen  years  she  resided  in  the  most  elegant 
mansion  in  Hartford,  surrounded  by  delightful  grounds,  after 
Mr.  Sigourney's  own  design ;  and  even  now,  though  the  Sig- 
ourney place  is  eclipsed  in  splendor  and  costliness  by  many  of 
more  recent  date,  there  is  no  abode  in  the  beautiful  city  of  Hart- 
ford more  attractive  than  this.  Mr.  Sigourne}^  was  a  man  of 
considerable  learning,  and  exceedingly  interested  in  the  study 
of  languages.  When  he  was  past  fifty,  he  began  the  acquisition 
of  modern  Greek.  Mrs.  Sigourney  became  the  mother  of  sev- 
eral children,  all  of  whom,  but  two,  died  iu  infancy.     One  son 


606  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

lived  to  enter  college,  but  died  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  of  con- 
sumption. A  daughter  still  survives,  —  the  wife  of  a  clergyman. 

After  many  years  of  very  great  prosperity  in  business,  Mr. 
Sigourney  experienced  heavy  losses,  which  compelled  them  to 
leave  their  pleasant  residence,  and  gave  a  new  activity  to  her 
pen.  He  died  a  few  years  since,  at  the  age  of  seventy-six. 
During  the  last  seven  years  of  Mrs.  Sigourney 's  life,  her  chief 
literary  employment  was  contributing  to  the  columns  of  the 
"  New  York  Ledger."  Mr.  Bonner,  having,  while  an  appren- 
tice in  the  Hartford  "  Courant  "  office,  "  set  up  "  some  of  her 
poems,  had  particular  pleasure  in  being  the  medium  of  her  last 
communications  with  the  public,  and  she  must  have  rejoiced  in 
the  vast  audience  to  which  he  gave  her  access,  — the  largest  she 
ever  addressed. 

Mrs.  Sigourney  enjoyed  excellent  health  to  within  a  few 
weeks  of  her  death.  After  a  short  illness,  which  she  bore  with 
much  patience,  she  died  in  June,  1865,  with  her  daughter  at 
her  side,  and  affectionate  friends  around  her.  Nothing  could 
exceed  her  tranquillity  and  resignation  at  the  approach  of  death. 
Her  long  life  had  been  spent  in  honorable  labor  for  the  good  of 
her  species,  and  she  died  in  the  fullest  certainty  that  Death 
"would  but  introduce  her  to  a  larger  and  better  sphere. 


THE    POET    VIRGIL.  GOT 


THE    POET   VIRGIL. 


In  a  Broadway  bookstore,  this  morning,  1  heard  a  school -boy 
ask  for  a  Virgil.  The  clerk  vanished  into  the  distant  recesses, 
and  returned  with  seven  editions  of  the  poet,  from  which  the 
young  gentleman  was  requested  to  choose  the  one  he  desired. 
In  the  same  store  there  were  also  two  different  translations  of 
the  works  of  Virgil  into  English.  I  suppose  that  here,  on  this 
continent  of  America,  which  was  not  discovered  until  Virgil 
had  been  dead  fifteen  hundred  years,  there  could  be  found  half 
a  million  copies  of  his  poems.  It  is  eighteen  hundred  and 
eighty- five  years  since  he  died ;  but  no  day  passes  during  the 
travelling  season  that  does  not  bring  to  his  grave,  near  Naples, 
some  pilgrim  from  a  distant  land.  Such  is  the  magic  of  genius, 
or,  rather,  such  is  the  lasting  charm  of  a  piece  of  literary  w^ork 
that  is  thoroughly  well  done. 

Virgil  was  born  seventy  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  at  a 
village  near  Mantua,  on  the  banks  of  the  Mincio,  in  that 
Northern  province  of  Italy,  which  the  Italians  wrested,  not 
long  ago,  from  the  dominion  of  hated  Austria.  Who  should 
possess  the  birthplace  of  Virgil  was  one  of  the  questions 
which  the  late  war  in  Europe  happily  and  justly  decided. 
His  father  was  a  man  of  very  humble  rank,  as  the  fathers  of 
great  poets  have  usually  been.  The  received  tradition  is  that, 
early  in  life,  his  father  entered  the  service  of  a  peddler,  who,  to 
reward  his  fidelity,  gave  him  his  daughter  in  marriage,  and 
settled  him  upon  a  small  farm  near  Mantua.  Of  this  union, 
and  upon  this  farm,  the  poet  was  born.  He  was  of  a  delicate 
constitution,  and  of  a  reflective,  retiring  cast  of  character, 
which  induced  his  father  to  give  him  advantages  of  education 
not  usually  bestowed  by  Roman  farmers  upon  their  sons.     It 


608  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

IS  probable  that  his  father  had  prospered  iu  his  vocation,  and 
that  he  was  a  man  such  as  we  should  expect  the  father  of  a 
great  poet  to  be,  —  a  father  who  would  live  for  his  children, 
and  find  his  happiness  in  theirs. 

When  the  lad  had  learned  all  the  schools  of  his  own  neio^h- 
borhood  could  teach  him,  he  set  out,  as  the  custom  then  was, 
to  find  better  instructors  in  other  cities.  He  made  his  way  to 
Naples,  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  his  home,  where,  at 
that  time,  many  famous  teachers  practised  their  profession. 
The  Eomans  were  educated  chiefly  by  means  of  the  Greek 
language  and  Greek  literature ;  for,  indeed,  there  was  no  other 
literature  known  to  them,  and  none  in  existence,  except  that  of 
the  Hebrews,  until  they  themselves  had  produced  some  great 
authors.  Yirgil  learned  grammar  by  studying  Greek ;  he 
learned  mathematics  from  Greek  treatises ;  he  learned  his 
philosophy  from  the  Greek  Plato  and  Epicurus,  and  he  culti- 
vated his  poetical  talent  by  a  profound  and  loving  study  of  the 
great  poet  of  antiquity,  the  Greek  Homer.  It  was  as  much  a 
matter  of  course  for  a  Eoman  youth  of  the  higher  classes  to 
learn  Greek,  as  it  is  among  us  for  boys  to  learn  French,  and 
there  were  probably  as  many  Greek  tutors  in  Eome  in  Vir- 
gil's day,  as  there  are  French  teachers  now  in  London  or  New 
York.  It  was  a  Greek  who  assisted  the  youthful  Virgil  to 
acquire  that  intimate  knowledge  of  this  language  and  its 
master-pieces,  which  his  poems  prove  that  he  possessed. 

After  some  years  spent  in  most  assiduous  and  successful 
study  at  Naples,  Virgil  returned  to  his  father's  house  near 
Mantua,  visiting  Rome  on  his  v^ay.  At  home  he  continued  to 
study.  It  is  extremely  probable  that  he  began  early  to  try  his 
hand  at  poetry,  though  none  of  his  first  essays  have  come  down 
to  us.  It  seems  to  me  impossible  that  any  man  could  have 
attained  the  purity  and  melody  of  Virgil's  Eclogues,  who 
had  not  written  a  multitude  of  verses  before. 

Inheriting,  at  length,  his  father's  estate,  which,  though  small, 
was  suflScient  for  a  student's  modest  wants,  he  was  in  a  position 
to  devote  most  of  his  time  to  literature.  But  soon  his  little 
property  was  snatched  from  him.  Augustus,  to  stimulate  the 
zeal  of  his  soldiers  in  the  civil  war  which  made  him  Emperor 


TUE    rOET    VIRGIL.  (JOD 

of  Rome,  promised  to  divide  among  them  a  large  tract  of  land 
in  the  nr^rth  of  Italy.  AVlien  this  promise  came  to  Ije  fullillcd, 
Virgil's  farm  fell  to  the  share  of  an  officer  of  rank,  Avho  drove 
the  young  poet  from  his  patrimony,  just  as  a  French  colonel 
might  drive  the  poet  Tennyson  from  his  cottage  in  the  Isle  of 
AA^ight,  if  ever  Louis  Napoleon  should  make  a  successful 
invasion  of  En2:land. 

It  so  happened,  fortunately  for  mankind,  that  one  of  Yir<T^irs 
fellow-students,  with  whom  he  had  been  particularly  iutlmate 
at  Naples,  was  then  in  the  i^ublic  service,  and  performing  some 
duty  in  the  neighborhood.  Virgil  fled  to  him  for  advice,  and 
under  his  patronage  went  to  Rome,  and  laid  his  case  before 
Augustus.  The  emperor  ordered  the  restoration  of  his  farm, 
and  the  happy  poet  returned  to  take  possession  of  it.  He  dis- 
covered, however,  that  an  imperial  order  of  that  nature  was  not 
held  in  much  respect  b}^  a  victorious  centurion  at  so  great  a 
distance  from  Rome.  The  officer  in  possession  drove  the  poet 
away  once  more,  and  pursued  him  with  such  violence  that  he 
only  saved  his  life  by  swimming  a  river.  It  cost  him  much 
pains,  and  required  the  interposition  of  powerful  friends,  before 
he  could  again  enter  into  peaceful  possession  of  his  estate, 
without  which,  in  all  probability,  he  had  never  enjoyed  that 
command  of  his  time,  and  that  tranquillity  of  mind  which  are 
necessary  to  the  production  of  immortal  works. 

Restored  to  his  home  and  to  his  leisure,  he  spent  the  next 
three  years  in  the  composition  of  his  Eclogues,  —  a  series  of 
poems  in  imitation  of  the  Greek  pastorals,  but  which  were  far 
from  bein<2:  a  mere  imitation.  Virf^^il's  real  deli2:ht  in  the 
tranquil  pleasures  of  the  country,  and  his  antipathy  to  the 
scenes  of  violence  and  carnage  of  which  he  had  been  the 
witness,  gave  to  many  passages  an  essential  originality,  while 
the  harmony  of  the  verse  was  something  wholly  his  own.  The 
many  allusions  to  recent  events  —  events  as  stirring  to  the 
Roman  heart  as  those  of  our  recent  war  are  to  us  —  gave  life 
and  freshness  to  the  poems.  They  had  an  immediate  and  most 
brilliant  success ;  they  w^ere  recited  in  the  theatre  at  Rome , 
they  were  quoted  in  every  intellectual  society.  I  have  ever 
thought  that  these  and  other  poems  of  Virgil  may  have  been 

39 


610  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

among  the  causes  of  the  long  peace  which  Rome  enjoyed  under 
Augustus. 

In  the  thirty -third  year  of  his  age,  crowned  with  the  glory 
of  this  new  fame,  Yirgil  Avent  to  Rome,  the  capital  of  civiliza- 
tion. There  the  Emperor  Augustus  and  his  minister,  Mecsenas, 
gave  him  cordial  welcome,  and  bestowed  such  liberal  gifts  upon 
him  that  he  was  able  to  live  thenceforth  much  at  his  ease,  and 
to  spend  all  the  residue  of  his  days  in  literary  employments. 
The  public  honored  him  not  less.  On  one  occasion,  when  he 
was  present  at  the  theatre,  some  of  his  verses  chanced  to  be 
recited,  and  the  whole  audience  rose  and  cheered  him,  just  as 
they  were  accustomed  to  salute  the  emperor  upon  his  entrance. 
He  made  one  noble  use  of  his  credit  with  Mec^enas,  in  recom- 
mending to  him  another  poet,  Horace.  Horace  says,  in  one  of 
his  satires,  addressed  to  Mecaenas  :  "It  was  not  chance  that 
brought  us  together.  That  best  of  men  Virgil,  long  since,  and, 
after  him,  Yarius,  told  you  who  I  was."  Horace,  therefore,  in 
a  certain  sense,  owed  his  fortune  to  Yirgil ;  for  Mecsenas  pre- 
sented the  satirist  with  a  house,  and  induced  Augustus  to  assign 
him  a  piece  of  laud,  upon  the  income  of  which  he  lived 
sufficiently  well. 

The  contemplative  Yirgil,  unlike  his  merry  friend,  Horace, 
did  not  enjoy  the  bustle  and  excitement  of  a  great  city.  After 
a  short  residence  at  Rome  he  returned  to  Naples,  which  was 
then  to  Italy  what  Oxford  now  is  to  England,  and  there  he 
composed  his  poems  in  praise  of  country  employments  and 
pleasures,  which  are  entitled  the  Georgics.  In  one  of  these 
Georgics  (the  third)  there  is  a  long  passage  descriptive  of  a 
cattle  plague  which  had  raged  in  the  northern  part  of  Italy,  and 
driven  off  almost  all  the  farmers.     The  poet  says  :  — 


"  We  see  the  naked  Alps  and  thin  remains 
Of  scattered  cots  and  yet  unpeopled  plains, 
Once  filled  with  grazing  flocks,  the  shepherd's  happy  reigns. 
Here,  from  the  vicious  air  and  sickly  skies, 
A  plague  did  on  the  dumb  creation  rise. 
During  the  autumnal  heats  the  infection  grew, 
Tame  cattle  and  the  beasts  of  nature  slew  — 
Poisoning  the  standing  lakes  and  pools  impure ; 


THE    rOKT    VIKGIL.  GU 

Nor  was  the  foodful  ^Ta.s^  In  fit?.  Is  secure. 

Strange  doatli !  for  wlicn  the  thkity  fire  had  drunlc 

Their  vital  blood,  and  tlie  dry  nei  'cs  were  shrunk; 

When  the  contracted  limbs  were  cv  imped,  e'en  then 

A  waterish  humor  swelled  and  oozcl.  again, 

Converting  into  bane  the  kindly  juice 

Ordained  by  nature  for  a  better  use, 

The  victim  ox,  that  was  for  altars  prest, 

Trimmed  with  white  ribbons,  and  with  garlands  drest. 

Sunk  of  himself  without  the  god's  command, 

Preventing  the  slow  sacrifice r's  hand." 

This  calls  to  mind  the  cattle  plague  which  prevailed  in  Eng- 
land a  year  or  two  ago.  Virgil,  however,  proceeds  to  say 
that  the  plague  of  which  he  speaks  attacked  dogs,  horses,  pigs, 
and  even  wild  beasts.  His  description  of  a  horse  dying  of  this 
mysterious  malady  is  exceedingly  vigorous.  I  copy  again  from 
Dryden's  translation :  — 

'*  The  victor  horse,  forgetful  of  his  food, 
The  palm  renounces  and  abhors  the  flood. 
He  paws  the  ground ;  and  on  his  hanging  ears 
A  doubtful  sweat  in  clammy  drops  appears ; 
Parched  is  his  hide,  and  rugged  are  his  hairs. 
Such  are  the  symptoms  of  the  young  disease ; 
But,  in  time's  process,  when  his  pains  increase, 
He  rolls  his  mournful  eyes ;  he  deeply  groans, 
With  patient  sobbing  and  with  manly  moans. 
He  heaves  for  breath,  which,  from  his  lungs  supplied. 
And  fetched  from  far,  distends  his  laboring  side. 
To  his  rough  palate  his  dry  tongue  succeeds, 
And  very  gore  he  from  his  nostrils  bleeds. 
A  drench  of  wine  has  with  success  been  used, 
And  through  a  horn  the  generous  juice  infused; 
Which,  timely  taken,  ope'd  his  closing  jaws, 
But  if  too  late,  the  patient's  death  did  cause ; 
For  the  too  vigorous  dose  too  fiercel}''  wrought, 
And  added  fury  to  the  strength  it  brought. 
Becruited  into  rage,  he  grinds  his  teeth 
In  his  own  flesh,  and  feels  approaching  death.** 


cr 


The  poet  proceeds  to  relate  with  equal  power  the  dym_ 
aijonies  of  an  ox,  seized  with  the  same  disease.  He  savs,  too, 
that  the  mighty  fish  of  the  sea  drifted  dead  upon  the  shore,  and 
that  venomous  snakes  died  in  their  holes. 


(5112  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OP    BIOGPvAPHY. 

Seven  years  the  poet  is  said  to  have  expended  in  the  composi- 
tion of  the  Georgics,  and  they  could  all  be  printed  in  about  seven 
columns  of  an  ordinary  newspaper.  Tradition  reports  that  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  composing  a  few  lines  in  the  morning,  and 
spending  the  rest  of  the  day  in  polishing  them.  Campbell  used 
to  say  that  if  a  poet  made  one  good  line  a  week,  he  did  very 
well ;  but  Moore  thought  that  if  a  poet  did  his  duty  he  could 
get  a  line  done  every  day.  Yirgil  seems  to  have  accomplished 
about  four  lines  a  w^eek,  but  then  they  have  lasted  eighteen 
hundred  years,  and  w411  last  eighteen  hundred  years  more. 

These  poems  having  raised  the  reputation  of  the  poet  to  the 
highest  point,  he  next  undertook  to  relate  in  verse  the  fabled 
founding  of  Eome  by  -^neas,  which  is  the  work  by  which  Virgil 
is  chiefly  known.  It  is  a  noble  poem,  —  the  product  of  an  ex- 
quisite genius  and  a  sublime  patience.  There  is  in  many  of  the 
lines  such  a  happy  blending  of  picturesque  meaning  and  melo- 
dious words,  that  they  remain  fixed  in  the  mind  forever. 

Before  he  had  put  the  last  touches  to  this  great  work,  and 
while  he  was  travelling  in  Greece  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the 
localities  described  in  it,  he  was  seized  with  mortal  illness,  of 
which  he  died  before  he  reached  home.  His  journey  threw  so 
much  new  light  upon  his  subject  that,  in  his  distress  at  not 
being  able  to  use  it  in  perfecting  his  poem,  he  left  orders  for 
its  destruction.  Happily,  these  orders  were  not  obeyed,  and 
the  poem  was  preserved  to  animate  and  instruct  a  hundred 
generations  of  men.     Yirgil  died  in  his  fifty-first  year. 

His  works,  surviving  the  loss  of  almost  everything  pleasant 
and  good  in  the  dark  ages,  were  among  the  causes  of  that 
revival  of  literature  and  science  to  w^hich  w^e  owe  the  progress 
which  the  world  has  made  since.  I  know  not  what  would  have 
become  of  the  human  mind  in  those  dreary  centuries  of  super- 
stition but  for  the  antidote,  always  secretly  working,  of  Virgil's 
romantic  grandeur  and  pleasmg  pictures  of  happy  life,  ani 
Horace's  chatty  and  amusing  worldliness. 


THE    rOKT     nORACE.  C13 


THE   POET   HORACE. 


-*o^ 


How  strange  that  so  many  American  parents  should  name 
their  bo3's  Horace  I  I  suppose  that  in  New  England  there  are 
a  hundred  Horaces  to  one  Virgil ;  while  there  are  a  hundred 
people  who  enjoy  the  poetry  of  Virgil  to  one  that  keenly  rel- 
ishes that  of  Horace.  Leaving  this  mystery  to  be  cleared  up 
by  philosophers,  I  will  endeavor  to  relate  in  a  few  words  the 
interesting  story  of  the  poet's  life;  our  knowledge  of  which  is 
chiefly  derived  from  the  innumerable  allusions  to  himself  and  to 
his  affairs  in  his  own  works. 

His  father  was  a  Roman  slave,  who,  some  years  before  Hor- 
ace was  born,  obtained  his  freedom.  "Everybody  has  a  fling  at 
me,"  he  says  in  one  of  his  satires  (the  sixth  of  book  first),  "be- 
cause I  am  a  freedman's  son."  He  owed  his  name  to  the  fact 
that  his  father's  master  belonsred  to  the  Horatian  tribe  :  thouirh 
it  was  long  supposed  that  he  was  named  Horatius  because  his 
master  was  a  member  of  the  celebrated  family  of  the  Horatii, 
three  of  w^hom  had  a  great  fight  one  day  with  the  Curatii,  — 
as  school-boys  remember. 

Having  become  a  free  man,  the  father  of  the  poet  established 
himself  as  an  auctioneer,  which  was  then,  as  it  is  now,  a 
profitable  business,  especially  in  times  of  general  distress.  The 
elder  Horace  by  the  exercise  of  his  vocation  acquired  a  consid- 
erable fortune,  with  which  he  bought  a  mountain  farm  in  the 
south  of  Italy,  in  the  midst  of  the  rugged  and  romantic  Apen- 
nines. Here,  sixty-five  years  before  Christ,  Ho-ace  was  born ; 
and,  amid  the  grandeur  and  loveliness  of  this  mountain  region, 
he  grew  up,  and  nourished  that  love  of  natural  beauty  which 
appears  in  so  many  of  his  poems.  It  was  here,  he  tells  us,  that 
when  he  was  a  young  child  he  wandered  fiir  from  his  father's 


614:  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

house,  and,  being  tired  at  length,  lay  down  under  a  thicket  of 
laurel  and  myrtle,  where  he  was  found  by  anxious  friends  fast 
asleep,  with  his  little  hands  full  of  the  v/ild  flowers  he  had  gath- 
ered on  the  way. 

His  ftither,  he  assures  us,  was  a  man  of  noble  disposition  and 
fine  understanding ;  but  of  his  mother  he  never  speaks ;  from 
which  we  may  infer  that  she  died  before  he  was  old  enough  to 
know  her.  He  pays  a  tribute  to  his  father's  virtues  in  a  passage 
that  has  been  read  millions  of  times  with  pleasure. 

"  If,"  he  says,  "  my  ftiults  are  few  and  not  heinous  (like  moles 
upon  a  beautiful  skin,  perfect  but  for  them)  ;  if  no  man  can 
justly  accuse  me  of  avarice,  meanness,  or  of  frequenting  low 
haunts;  if,  indeed  (to  speak  in  my  own  praise),  I  am  chaste, 
innocent,  and  dear  to  my  friends,  I  owe  it  all  to  my  father  ;  who, 
though  far  from  rich,  living  on  an  unfertile  farm,  would  not 
send  me  to  school  under  the  pedantic  Havius,  where  boys  of 
rank,  sprung  from  great  centurions,  with  their  satchels  and  tab- 
lets slung  over  their  left  arms,  used  to  go  with  their  school 
money  in  their  hands  on  the  very  day  the  term  was  up ;  but  had 
the  energy  to  bring  me,  a  child  to  Rome,  to  be  taught  the  ac- 
complishments which  Eoraan  knights  and  senators  teach  their 
children.  And  yet,  if  any  one  had  looked  at  my  clothes,  and  at 
the  slaves  who  waited  upon  me  in  a  city  so  populous,  he  would 
certainly  have  thought  that  the  cost  of  all  this  was  supplied  from 
the  revenues  of  an  hereditary  estate.  My  father  himself,  of  all 
guardians  the  most  faithful,  was  continually  looking  on  when 
my  teachers  were  with  me.  But  why  multiply  words?  He  it 
was  who  kept  me  chaste  (the  first  of  the  virtues)  ;  preserving  me 
not  only  from  actual  transgression,  but  even  from  the  appearance 
of  it ;  nor  did  he  fear  lest,  by  and  by,  some  one  should  make  it 
a  reproach  to  him  that  a  son,  educated  at  so  much  cost,  should 
turn  out  only  an  auctioneer.  And  if  I  had  been  only  that,  I 
should  never  have  complained.  The  narrowness  of  his  fortune 
renders  his  conduct  the.  more  admirable,  and  calls  for  more 
*  gratitude  on  my  part.  As  long  as  I  am  a  sane  man,  never  can 
I  be  ashamed  of  a  father  such  as  mine  was." 

This  is  a  rough  translation  for  poetry  ;  but  the  charm  of  the 
passage  lies  in  its  meaning.     Horace  was  twelve  years  of  ago 


THE     POET    HORACE.  GIJ 

when  this  generous  father,  unwiUhig  to  subject  his  l>()y  to  tlie 
taunts  of  the  young  aristocrats  of  his  own  neighborhood,  t(jok 
him  to  Home,  where  he  could  pursue  his  studies  and  live  on 
terms  of  equality  with  his  fellows.  His  father,  however,  always 
discouraged  any  inclination  the  boy  may  have  had  to  aspire  to  a 
higher  rank  than  his  own.  He  appears  to  have  supposed  that 
he  could  give  his  son  the  education  of  a  man  of  rank,  and  then 
make  him  content  to  spend  his  life  as  an  auctioneer.  Many 
fathers  have  indulged  a  dream  like  this ;  but  I  never  heard  of 
one  who  realized  it. 

At  seventeen,  Horace,  after  having  enjoyed  a  rigorous  drill 
in  the  rudiments  of  knowledge  under  severe  teachers  at  Home, 
repaired  to  Athens  (which  was  only  a  few  days'  sail  from  his 
father's  house)  to  continue  his  studies.  There  he  began  to  write 
verses  in  the  Greek  language  ;  but  soon  discovering  the  impossi- 
bility of  equalling  the  Greek  poets  in  their  own  language,  wrote 
thenceforth  only  in  Latin. 

Great  events  transpired  in.  Italy  while  Horace  was  growing  to 
manhood.  Ciesar  crossed  the  Rubicon,  overthrew  Pompey, 
reigned,  and  w^as  killed  by  Brutus,  while  Horace  was  a  student. 
After  the  death  of  Caesar,  Brutus  went  to  Athens,  "where  the 
young  poet  was  then  residing,  along  with  a  great  number  of 
Roman  youth  completing  their  education.  Among  the  young 
men  who  joined  the  forces  of  Brutus  at  this  time,  wn'th  the 
design  of  restoring  the  republican  constitution,  was  Horace,  to 
whom  Brutus  assigned  a  rank  about  equal  to  that  of  a  colonel  in 
a  modern  army.  Under  Brutus  he  served  with  gallantry  and. 
general  approval,  until  the  disastrous  battle  of  Philippi,  when 
the  republican  cause  was  irretrievably  ruined.  Horace  was  borne 
away,  he  says,  by  the  torrent  of  fugitives,  and  lost  his  shield  in 
the  flight.  Brutus  and  Cassius  having  committed  suicide,  he 
gave  up  the  struggle  and  made  the  best  of  his  way  home. 

Arriving  among  his  native  mountains,  worn  with  the  toils 
of  war,  and  saddened  by  defeat,  he  found  his  father  dead, 
bis  inheritance  confiscated,  and  his  head  in  danger.  His  life, 
however,  was  spared ;  and  he  went  soon  after  to  Rome,  a  poor 
young  man  of  letters,  in  search  of  the  means  of  subsistence.  He 
tells  us  himself  what  vocation  he  entered  into  :  — 


RIG  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

"My  wings  being  clipped,  cand  deprived  of  house  and  land, 
audacious  poverty  drove  me  to  the  making  of  verses." 

He  earned  his  living  at  this  occupation  for  some  time,  and 
even  acquired  property  by  it, — sufficient  to  buy  an  under-clerk- 
ship  in  the  Eoraan  treasury,  — an  office  of  small  salary  but  smaller 
duties. 

While  he  was  plodding  on,  writing  verses  for  hire,  young 
Virgil  came  to  Rome,  with  the  laurel  of  the  successful  poet  on 
his  brow  ;  welcomed  and  feted  by  high  and  low  ;  a  guest  even 
in  the  imperial  palace,  and  in  the  house  of  Meccenas,  the  favor- 
ite and  minister  of  the  Emperor  Augustus.  Virgil,  discovering 
the  great  genius  of  Horace,  mentioned  him  to  Mecosnas,  who 
sent  for  the  unknown  poet.  Long  after,  he  reminded  Mecsenas, 
in  one  of  his  satires,  of  their  first  interview  : 

"When  first  I  came  into  your  presence,  I  spoke  but  a  few 
words  with  a  stammering  tongue,  for  I  w^as  as  bashful  as  a 
child." 

Mecoenas,  he  adds,  took  no  further  notice  of  him  for  nme 
months ;  but  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  he  sent  for  him,  and 
"  ordered  him  to  be  enrolled  among  the  number  of  his  friends." 
By  Mecsenas  he  was  presented  to  the  emperor,  and  both  I'e- 
mained  his  cordial  friends  as  long  as  he  lived.  Mecoenas  gave 
him  a  villa  a  few  miles  from  Rome,  and  Augustus  bestowed  upon 
him  a  tract  of  land,  which  yielded  him  an  income  sufficient  for 
his  wants,  with  which  he  was  perfectly  contented. 

He  divided  his  time  henceforth  between  the  country  and  tho 
town.  When  cloyed  with  the  pleasures  of  the  imperial  city,  he 
had  but  to  mount  his  mule  and  ride  fifteen  minutes,  to  reach  his 
farm.  His  land,  well  covered  with  forest,  and  lying  on  both 
sides  of  a  sparkling  river,  was  tilled  by  five  free  families  and 
eight  slaves,  and  produced  grain,  wine,  and  olives.  It  abounded 
in  pleasant,  secluded  scenes,  fit  for  a  poet's  leisure ;  and  there, 
too,  he  delighted  to  receive  his  friends  from  Rome ;  ]Meca3nas 
himself  being  glad  to  repose  there  from  the  toils  of  government. 
To  this  da}^,  Horace's  farm  is  continually  visited  by  travellers 
residing  in  Rome,  especially  by  English  and  Americans.  So 
many  of  the  visitors,  nideed,  speak  the  English  language,  that 
the  peasantry  of  tho  neighborhood  suppose  Horace  to  have  been 


THE    rOET    HORACE.  G17 

some  illustrious  EuglishuLin,  and  that  the  visitors  come  there  to 
pay  homage  to  the  tomb  of  their  countryman.  Knowing  that 
Horace  was  not  one  of  the  saints,  they  cannot  conceive  of  any 
other  cause  for  such  a  concourse  of  visitors  to  so  remote  a  spot. 

Secure  in  his  fortune,  Horace  enjoyed  life  in  a  moderate  and 
rational  manner,  bestowing  upon  his  poems  an  amount  of  lal)or 
which  would  surprise  some  of  our  easy  verse-makers.  He  was 
a  poet  for  thirty- five  3^ears,  yet  the  whole  of  his  works  could  bo 
printed  in  one  number  of  a  newspaper,  and  leave  room  besides 
for  this  sketch  of  his  life.  No  man  has  better  followed  the  ad 
vice  which  he  himself  lays  down  for  authors  :  — 

"You  that  intend  to  write  what  deserves  to  be  read  more  than 
once,  correct  and  erase  much." 

His  poems,  light  and  chatty  as  they  seem,  are  the  quintes- 
sence of  all  that  he  thought,  felt,  observed,  and  experienced 
during  the  whole  of  the  fifty-seven  yciirs  that  he  lived ;  and, 
besides  being  that,  they  throw  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  life  of 
the  Eoman  people.  He  knew  well  that  his  w^orks  would  endure 
for  ages.  In  a  little  poem  on  his  works  he  says,  with  the  noble 
confidence  of  patient  genius  :  — 

"I  have  constructed  a  monument  more  lastinor  than  brass,  and 
grander  than  the  pyramids'  ro^^al  height;  w^hich  not  the  wasting 
rain,  nor  the  powerful  north  wind,  nor  an  endless  succession 
of  years,  nor  the  round  of  the  seasons,  shall  be  able  to  destroy. 
I  shall  not  wholly  die ;  but  a  large  part  of  me  shall  not  be  en- 
tombed at  my  funeral.  Posterity  will  renew  my  praises  from 
age  to  age,  as  long  as  the  priest  shall  ascend  the  steps  of  the 
capitol  with  the  vestal  virgin  silent  at  his  side." 

Yes ;  and  longer !  The  Komau  priest  ascends  no  more  the 
capitol  steps ;  the  capitol  itself  has  disappeared ;  the  language 
of  Rome  has  become,  in  Rome  itself,  an  unknown  tongue ;  and 
still  the  well-wrought  poems  of  Horace  are  enjoyed  wherever 
on  earth  there  are  educated  minds  more  than  forty  years  of  age. 
Virgil  is  the  poet  for  youth  ;  Horace  is  the  treasure  of  men. 

The  learned  and  public-spirited  Judge  Daly,  of  the  New  York 
Court  of  Common  Pleas,  who  has  in  his  possession  the  papers 
and  correspondence  of  Chancellor  Kent,  says  that  the  chancellor 
knew  Horace  almost  by  heart,  having  read  all  his  poems  eight 


618  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

times  over,  and  never  going  out  without  a  little  Horace  in  Ms 
pocket.  The  poet  Wordsworth  was  exceedingly  fond  of  Hoi- 
ace,  and  so  was  a  man  as  unlike  Wordsworth  as  can  be  imagined, 
— the  fat  Louis  XVIII.,  King  of  France  after  Waterloo.  This 
king,  it  is  said,  did  actually  know  very  many  of  the  poems  of 
Horace  by  heart. 

It  was  the  strong  desire  of  Horace  that  he  might  not  live 
longer  than  his  beloved  friend  Mecaenas.  His  words,  expressive 
of  this  wish,  have  been  well  translated  :  — 

"Ah !  if  untimely  fate  should  snatch  thee  hence,  — 

Thou,  of  my  soul  a  part,  — 
Why  should  I  linger  on  with  deadened  sense 

And  ever  aching  heart,  — 
A  worthless  fragment  of  a  fallen  shrine? 
No,  no !  one  day  beholds  thy  death  and  mine  I  ** 

This  desire  was  destined  to  be  gratified.  The  two  friends  did 
not,  indeed,  depart  this  life  on  the  same  day,  but  in  the  same 
year.  Mecoenas  died  in  July,  bequeathing  Horace  to  the  friend- 
ship of  Augustus.  Horace  died  in  November  of  the  same  year, 
which  was  the  eighth  before  the  birth  of  Christ. 

Horace  was  a  short  man,  inclining  to  corpulency,  of  a  happy 
disposition,  and  much  disposed  to  innocent  merriment ;  simple 
in  his  habits  ;  not  less  pleased  when  mingling  with  the  people  in 
the  market-place,  or  supping  at  home  upon  bread  and  onions, 
than  when  reclining  in  the  banqueting  room  of  the  emperor's 
palace.  And  again  the  question  occurs.  Why  should  so  many 
of  the  grave  people  of  New  Engknd  name  their  children  after 
this  merry  poet  ? 


MILTON.  Glil 


MILTON. 


The  father  of  John  ]\Iilton,  the  author  of  Paradise  Lost,  was 
precisely  such  a  mau  as  we  should  naturally  expect  the  father  of 
John  ]Milton  to  be.  He  also  was  named  John,  and  he  was  the 
son  of  a  substantial  English  Catholic  farmer,  who  disinherited 
him  because  he  turned  Protestant.  Coming  to  London  in  quest 
of  fortune,  he  set  up  in  the  business  of  notary  and  conveyancer, 
in  which  he  gained  a  considerable  fortune.  The  very  spot  iu 
Broad  Street,  near  Cheapside,  where  his  house  stood,  in  which 
he  lived  and  worked,  and  in  which  the  poet  was  born,  is  known 
and  pointed  out  to  strangers.  Houses  were  not  numbered  then, 
but  distinguished  by  signs.  Over  the  door  of  a  bookseller  there 
would  be  a  gilt  Bible,  perhaps  ;  over  a  baker's  store  a  sheaf  of 
wheat,  and  some  men  would  mark  their  houses  by  a  sign  having 
no  reference  to  their  occupation.  John  Milton,  scrivener,  dis- 
tinguished his  office  and  abode  by  putting  up  over  the  entrance 
a  black  spread  eagle,  the  arms  of  his  family. 

This  thriving  notary,  besides  being  a  man  of  reading  and  cul- 
ture, was  a  composer  of  music,  and  some  of  his  compositions, 
which  were  published  in  his  lifetime,  have  been  found  in  musi- 
cal works  of  that  day.  We  have  reason  to  believe,  too,  that  he 
was  a  man  of  liberal  opinions  both  in  politics  and  religion, 
equally  opposed  to  the  tyranny  of  kings  and  the  intolerance  of 
bishops.  Of  the  mother  of  the  poet  we  know  two  interesting 
facts.  One  is,  that  she  kept  the  peace  in  her  household ;  and 
the  other,  that  at  the  early  age  of  thirty  she  had  weak  eyes.  Of 
the  five  children  of  this  couple,  three  survived  childhood, — 
Anne,  John,  and  Christopher.  Anne,  who  was  twice  married, 
transmitted  a  little  of  the  family  talent  to  her  children,  some 
of  whom  obtained  some  slight  celebrity  as  writers  in  the  reigu 


G20  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

of  James  IT.  But  Christopher,  who  was  seven  years  younger 
than  the  poet,  was  a  man  of  such  slender  understanding,  and  so 
wanting  in  spirit,  as  to  adhere  to  the  cause  of  Charles  I.  in  the 
war  which  that  mean,  false  king  waged  against  the  liberties  of 
his  countrymr.n.  All  through  the  shameful  reign  of  Charles 
II.  he  was  a  partisan  of  the  king.  James  II.  knighted  him, 
and  made  h\m  a  judge,  as  a  reward  for  his  subserviency,  and 
he  was  one  of  the  servile  judges  who  lost  their  places  when 
James  II.  rin  away  to  France,  and  made  a  vacancy  on  the  throne 
for  a  man, — William  III. 

John  ^lilton  owed  the  bent  and  nurture  of  his  mind  to  his 
father.  His  father  was  his  first  instructor,  particularly  in 
music,  and  when  the  boy  was  ten  years  old,  he  provided  for 
him  a  tutor  of  eminent  qualifications.  This  good  parent  early 
discovered  the  prodigious  genius  of  his  son,  and  he  made  the 
culture  of  that  genius  the  chief  object  of  his  existence.  The 
poet  was  enabled,  by  his  father's  liberality,  to  pass  the  first 
thirty-one  years  of  his  life  in  gaining  knowledge  and  cultivat- 
ing his  faculties.  Until  he  was  thirty-one,  John  IMiUon  was 
a  student,  and  nothing  but  a  student;  first,  at  home,  at  his 
father's  side ;  next  at  a  great  London  grammar-school ;  then 
at  Cambridge  University ;  afterwards  at  his  fiither's  house 
in  the  country ;  and  finally  in  foreign  countries.  During  all  this 
long  period  of  preparation  he  was  a  most  diligent,  earnest,  and 
intense  student.  He  was  probably  the  best  Latin  scholar  that 
ever  lived  who  was  not  a  native  Roman  of  Cicero's  day.  At  the 
same  time,  I  rejoice  to  state,  he  was  an  excellent  swordsman. 
K  a  bandit  had  attacked  him  durin<r  his  Italian  tour,  he  could 
have  given  a  very  good  account  of  himself.  This  student,  let 
me  tell  you,  young  gentlemen,  was  no  dyspeptic  spooney. 

It  was  during  his  residence  in  Italy  that  his  literary  ambition 
was  born.  From  an  early  period  of  his  youth  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  write  Latin  poems,  some  of  which  he  carried  to 
Italy  and  showed  to  his  learned  friends  there.  They  were  struck 
with  wonder  that  a  man  from  distant  England  should  have  at- 
tained such  mastery  of  the  Latin  language,  and  they  were  not 
less  astonished  that  a  Briton  should  be  so  excellent  a  poet.  It 
was  the.r  hearty  praise,  he  saj's  in  one  of  his  letters,  that  first 


MILTON.  G21 

siiircfcstcd  to  him  the  idea  of  dcvotiiif]:  his  life  to  literature.  Tiiea 
and  there  it  was,  he  tells  us,  that  he  began  to  think  that  "  by^ 
labor  and  intent  study  "  he  might,  perliaps,  produce  something 
so  written  that  posterity  would  not  willingly  let  it  die.  A  great 
Christian  poem  was  the  object  to  which  he  aspired.  He  desired 
to  do  for  England  what  Homer  had  done  for  Greece,  Virgil  for 
Eome,  Dante  for  Italy,  and  Camoens  for  Portugal.  It  was  in 
Italy,  too,  that  he  saw  those  religious  dramas,  representing  the 
temptation  of  Adam  and  Eve  and  its  consequences,  which  are 
supposed  to  have  given  him  the  idea  of  his  Paradise  Lost. 

While  he  was  indulging  in  these  pleasing  dreams  under  the 
deep  blue  of  the  Italian  sky,  the  news  came  to  him  tliat  civil 
war  was  about  to  break  out  in  England.  All  the  patriot  and  all 
the  republican  awoke  within  him.  Just  as  many  American  cit- 
izens travelling  in  Europe  in  1861  hastened  to  return  home  and 
take  their  part  in  their  country's  danger,  so  did  this  poet  and 
scholar  turn  his  steps  homeward  when  he  heard  that  hostilities 
were  imminent  between  his  countrymen  and  their  perjured  king. 
"I  thought  it  dishonorable,"  said  he,  "that  I  should  be  travel- 
ling at  case  for  amusement,  when  my  fellow-countrymen  at 
home  were  fighting  for  liberty." 

Farewell,  Poetry,  for  twenty  years  ! 

When  Milton  returned  to  his  native  land,  after  two  years' 
absence,  it  was  not  at  his  father's  house  that  he  found  a  home. 
His  brother  Christopher,  then  a  lawyer  beginning  practice,  had 
established  himself  at  Reading,  a  country  town  of  more  impor- 
tance then  than  now ;  and  their  father  had  gone  to  live  with  him. 
Christopher  Milton  was  already  a  declared  royalist,  and  his 
house  was  no  fit  abode  for  the  republican  poet.  John  Milton 
preferred  to  reside  in  London,  where  he  took  a  few  pupils  to 
prepare  for  the  university,  and  spent  his  leisure  in  defending  by 
his  eloquent  pen  the  cause  of  his  oppressed  country.  These 
were  his  employments  for  many  years,  until  Oliver  Cromwell 
appointed  him  his  Latin  secretary.  Milton  was  a  thorough-going 
believer  in  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  was  proud  to  serve  the  ablest 
ruler  that  Ensjland  ever  had. 

He  was  extremely  unfortunate,  as  poets  usually  are,  in  his 
relations  with  women.    Until  he  was  thirty-five  he  lived  a  bach- 


622  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

elor,  and  it  had  been  better  for  him,  perhaps,  if  he  had  remained 
such  all  his  life.  In  his  thirty-fifth  year,  just  as  the  civil  war 
was  actually  beginning,  he  went  into  the  country,  telling  no  one 
the  object  of  the  journey.  A  month  after  he  returned  home  a 
married  man,  bringing  his  wife  with  him.  She  was  a  good 
enough  country  girl,  the  daughter  of  an  old  friend  of  Milton's 
father,  but  as  unsuitable  a  wife  for  John  Milton  as  any  woman 
in  England.  She  was  rather  stupid,  very  ignorant,  fond  of 
pleasure,  accustomed  to  go  to  country  balls  and  dance  with  gay 
young  oiScers.  Milton  was  a  grave,  austere  student,  absorbed 
in  the  weightiest  public  topics,  and  living  only  in  his  books  and 
in  his  thoughts.  The  poor  girl  found  his  house  so  intolerably 
dull,  that,  after  a  short  trial  of  it,  she  asked  leave  to  go  home 
for  a  short  visit,  and,  being  at  home,  she  positively  refused  to 
go  back.  He  was  not  less  disgusted  with  her ;  and  his  suffer- 
ings leading  him  to  study  the  great  questions  of  marriage  and 
divorce,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  divorce  ousfht  to  be 
about  as  free  and  about  as  easy  as  marriage.  He  published 
divers  pamphlets  on  this  subject,  the  substance  of  which  is  this  : 
that  when  man  and  wife,  after  a  fair  and  full  trial,  find  they 
cannot  live  together  in  peace,  and  both  deliberately  choose  to 
separate,  there  ought  to  be  no  legal  obstacle  to  their  doing  so ; 
provided  always  that  proper  provision  be  made  for  the  support 
and  education  of  the  children. 

During  the  troubles  of  the  civil  war,  his  wife's  family  bemg 
driven  from  their  home,  he  took  them  all  into  his  house,  with 
ots  own  aged  father,  and  so  they  again  lived  together.  They 
nad  three  daughters,  who  resembled  their  mother  more  than 
their  father,  and  who  loved  him  little  more  than  she  did.  She 
died  when  the  youngest  of  these  children  was  an  infant  in  arms. 
Three  years  after,  he  was  married  again,  and  in  less  than  a  year 
he  was  left  again  a  widower.  Six  years  later  he  married  his 
third  wife,  who  was  twenty-eight  years  younger  than  himself, 
who  survived  him  for  the  long  period  of  fifty -five  years.  This 
last  marriage  was  embittered  by  ceaseless  contentions  between 
bis  daughters  and  his  wife,  of  which  Milton  lays  the  blame  upon 
his  daughters.  He-  says  his  wife  was  good  and  kind  to  him  in 
his  blind  old  age,  but  that  his  daughters  were  undutiful  and  in- 


MILTON.  G23 

human,  —  not  only  neglecting  him  and  leaving  him  alone,  ])nt 
plotting  with  his  maicl-scrvant  to  cheat  him  in  the  marketing. 

DuriniT  all  this  time  of  domestic  trouble  his  labors  were 
incessant.  Besides  his  political  writings,  he  wrote  for  the  use 
of  his  pupils  a  short  Latin  Grammar,  part  of  a  History  of  Eng- 
land, and  other  school-books.  AVhen  the  people  of  England 
deposed  and  executed  their  king,  it  was  ]Milton  who  came  for- 
ward to  defend  that  sublime  act  of  justice,  in  a  treatise  of  which 
the  title  was  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magistrates  :  proving  that  it  is 
lawfid,  and  hath  been  held  so  through  all  ages,  for  any  who 
have  the  power  to  call  to  account  a  tyrant  or  wicked  king,  and, 
after  due  conviction,  to  depose  and  put  him  to  death,  if  the 
ordinary'  magistrate  have  neglected  or  denied  to  do  it." 

This  powerful  vindication  of  the  king's  execution,  together 
with  Milton's  personal  acquaintance  Avith  members  of  Crom- 
well's government,  procured  him  the  office  of  Latin  secretary, 
which  he  held  to  the  death  of  Cromwell.  At  that  day,  a  great 
part  of  all  diplomatic  and  other  state  papers  were  written  in  Latin, 
and  it  was  Milton's  duty  to  write  such.  It  was  a  somewhat  lucra- 
tive employment.  The  salary  —  two  hundred  and  ninety  pounds 
sterling  per  annum  —  was  fully  equal  to  the  income  of  one  of 
om*  cabinet  ministers.  Probably  it  was  more.  Oliver  Crom- 
well was  too  able  a  ruler  to  scrimp  the  best  Latin  secretary 
that  ever  served  a  government.  Able  commanders,  whether  in 
public  or  in  private  life,  always  take  good  care  of  the  interests 
and  the  honor,  the  feelings  and  the  dignity,  of  those  who  serve 
them. 

Most  zealously  did  John  Milton  serve  the  government  of  the 
Protector.  Not  confining  himself  to  the  routine  of  office  duty, 
his  pen  was  ever  ready  when  great  principles  or  good  measures 
required  a  defender.  So  arduous  were  his  labors  of  this  nature, 
that  his  eyes,  which  began  to  fail  him  at  thirty-five,  gave  out 
entirely  ten  years  after.  Before  Milton  had  completed  his  forty- 
sixth  year,  he  was  totally  and  incurably  blind.  An  assistant  was 
granted  him,  and  he  retained  his  post  until  Cromwell  died, 
though  at  a  reduced  salary.  This  reduced  salary,  however,  he 
was  to  enjoy  for  life,  and  doubtless  would  have  enjoyed  for  life, 


62i  PEOPLE'S    BOOK    OF    BIOGRAPHY. 

3f  the  government  had  remained  unchanged.  He  was  fifty-five 
3^ears  of  age,  blind  and  prematurely  old,  when  the  restoration 
of  the  monarchy,  under  Charles  II.,  consigned  him  to  private 
life,  and  gave  him  back  to  poetry. 

Now  it  was  that  he  realized  the  dream  of  his  early  manhood, 
a>nd  wrote  his  great  poem,  — the  work  of  just  five  years. 

Milton  lived  seven  years  after  the  publication  of  Paradise 
Lost.  He  died  in  1674,  aged  sixty-six  years.  His  property, 
which  amounted  to  fifteen  hundred  pounds  sterling,  became  the 
subject  of  a  lawsuit  between  the  widow  and  the  daughters  of 
the  poet.  They  had  quarrelled  over  his  dying  bed,  and  they 
quarrelled  over  his  freshly  made  grave. 

Milton  was  a  man  of  small  stature,  slender  make,  delicate 
features,  and  pale  complexion.  He  wore  a  suit  of  black.  But 
for  the  manliness  and  vigor  of  his  bearing,  hi-?  appearance 
would  have  been  feminine.  He  rose  earlj",  and  loved  an  early 
walk  in  the  fields,  delighting  in  the  birds,  the  flowers,  and  the 
sweet  morning  air.  He  was  simple  m  his  diet,  jet  loved  a 
good  dish,  and  was  cheerful  over  his  food.  Great  numbers  of 
the  learned  and  noble,  both  native  and  foreign,  visited  him  in 
his  modest  abode.  During  the  last  years  of  his  life  there  was 
only  one  name  in  Great  Britain  more  honored  than  his,  and 
that  was  the  august  name  of  the  Lord  Protector,  Oliver  Crom- 
weU. 


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